Weasley Family Heartbreak
by MBP
Summary: In an AU version of post-DH by two years , Arthur receives some very bad news. How will the rest of the family cope? Idea came from an interview with JKR -- rated T for language
1. Bad news

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine; this story is.

**A/N: I know Ron mentions his father in the epilogue of DH, but considering we've veered off into our own universe in light of some of the other information JKR has offered, I'm taking the aftermath off into a more alternate universe as well. I don't usually play with cannon, but in this case, JKR once mentioned that she'd almost killed off Arthur in ****OotP****, so I felt like it was an (awful) avenue to explore. We'll see where this goes, I guess.**** This is a short one, but my first chapters always are. Longer ones to come, I promise. ****If you're reading…**** PLEASE REVIEW!**

It was just supposed to have been a simple trip to the healer. Sure, he'd been having headaches more often than he used to, but it could have been stress, or it could have been age. It wasn't supposed to be anything serious. But here they were in St. Mungo's, waiting for a healer to come speak to them, and Molly Weasley could only remember feeling this scared three other times in her life. The first was when she'd gotten news that Gideon and Fabian had gone missing and were thought to have been taken by Death Eaters. The second was when Arthur had been attacked when he was patrolling at the Ministry. The third, of course, was when she'd lost Fred. She realized, suddenly, that Arthur was watching her. She tried to force a smile, and he laughed.

"It's ok, Mollywobbles," he whispered, and she turned a light shade of pink, relieved for the moment that they were still alone. "Everything will be ok. Stop expecting the worst."

She nodded, trying to look like he'd convinced her, but she could tell from the skeptical look in his eyes that she wasn't succeeding. She sighed. "I want everything to be ok. I just – well, it's not so easy to believe anymore that it actually _will_."

She was prevented from further speech by the entrance of a somber-looking witch. Molly's stomach clenched, and she wished irrationally that their children were with them. But then the woman began to speak, and she was suddenly glad that they weren't.

Arthur's face lost its color as he received news that he never expected, and listening to Molly's shaky breathing wasn't helping. But then she took his hand and gripped it tightly, and her strength flowed into him and made him calmer. Nothing could make any of this ok, but they were going to do this together. And that at least made it bearable.

Well, that's what he thought until they were left alone, and that's when the reality began to hit him. He turned to Molly, and the fear and pain and sadness in her eyes broke his heart into pieces.

"She said months," he whispered, afraid to trust his voice with any more volume, but she knew what he was doing and why, and she put her hands on his shoulders.

"She did," she answered, her voice wavering, but she held his gaze. "But we'll do whatever we can to try to make that longer. Ok? We won't give up. _I_ won't give up."

He nodded, and then his arms were around her, and his face was buried in her shoulder, and she was holding him tightly as she had just two years earlier when they'd had to bury their child. This … this couldn't be happening right now. It wasn't fair to her or to their kids… and how on earth were they _ever_ going to tell them?


	2. Plans

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: ****Thanks for the all of the initial encouragement. Please continue to read and review. This chapter is kind of middle ground because decisions are made, but writing this couple has never been my strength, as much as I love them. I think things will really start to take off with the next chapter when I get back to my real love – writing the Weasley kids. In any case, you will obviously find out Arthur's diagnosis when his kids do. It's only fair.**

When they got back to the Burrow, Molly was relieved to find that they were alone. Granted, it _was_ the middle of the day, but there were never any guarantees of privacy in this house. Arthur stumbled out of the fireplace and directly into the armchair that had received so many Weasley s in distress, and Molly just stood there and watched him. Was there anything she could say that wouldn't make this harder? Because she knew that part of his anguish came from the knowledge that life without him would be no life at all for her. And there wasn't any way for her to deny it.

With a visible stiffening of her spine, she made a resolution. She would bear this for both of them. It didn't seem as if she would have much choice. And when she quickly glanced at the family photo sitting on the mantelpiece behind her, she knew … she would have to bear this for nine others as well.

"I'm going to make tea," she said decisively and marched into the kitchen. She knew her husband. She knew he would need this time to regain his composure and figure out how he'd want to act. She was right.

It was only ten minutes later when she returned to him with the tea and sandwiches she'd arranged, but he was waiting for her. He smiled weakly when he saw the magnitude of food floating before her.

"Dear, it's just the two of us!" he protested good naturedly as she pointedly ignored him and sent a plate and a cup and saucer flying his way.

"Eat up," she insisted. "The first thing we have to concentrate on is keeping up your strength."

He couldn't argue with that. For a few minutes, there was no other sound in the room. Arthur had leaned over to put his plate on the floor when he realized, suddenly, that Molly had stopped eating and was staring into her cup. He sat back up slowly and looked at her quietly until she realized she was being watched. She swallowed hard and looked up as well.

"It's going to be ok, you know," he said, echoing his words from earlier in the day. "Even if – when the worst happens – well, you'll still be ok. No matter what happens, I know you'll make it."

Now her eyes were bright with tears, but she managed a shaky laugh. "The only reason I've made it all this time is because I've had you," she said, her voice husky.

But he shook his head. "No, I think the opposite is true." He gazed at her for a moment, and then he shook himself and said firmly, "But we can't argue about that now. What we have to do is figure out what we're going to tell the kids." And suddenly, his voice broke. The kids… they hated being thought of as children still, but that's what they would always be to him – his children. How on earth were they ever going to tell them – this?

Molly sighed. "Well, we're going to tell them the truth, aren't we? If – if what they said at St. Mungo's was true, then there won't be much time for us to come up with – with anything else."

Her words shocked both of them into silence for a minute until Arthur cleared his throat. "You're right," he admitted, but he avoided her gaze. This was a hard enough conversation, but if he looked into those brown eyes, there would be no hope of either of them retaining any kind of control.

It was a while before they could speak again, and then Molly asked the question they were both trying to avoid.

"How do you want to do this?"

Arthur shrugged and slumped back into his chair, removing his glasses so he could rub the bridge of his nose.

"We should probably tell them all together, but it might be easier to tell each one alone," he said slowly. He couldn't imagine making an … _announcement_ like this in front of all of his children.

Molly nodded in agreement. "Doing it all together would be too overwhelming. And to prevent any bad feelings, we can just do it in age order. We'll have Bill and Fleur over first and then go on down the line."

They sat there for a moment, and each knew what the other was thinking. Bill. He was always the protector of his siblings, but even he would be hard pressed not to want some protection of his own right now.

"What will I say to him?" Arthur asked, his voice hoarse, and now Molly was forced to look into her husband's eyes.

"We will tell them what the healer told you. We're going to be telling him together, Arthur, so don't think for one second that you'll be doing this alone. If they have any questions, then we'll just do our best to answer them. We just have to be sure that they don't say anything to each other before we get a chance to tell all of them ourselves."

Arthur nodded. He felt the tiniest bit more relieved now, but he still felt his lunch sinking inside him like a lead balloon.

"When should we start?" he asked, desperately hoping that she would give him a day's reprieve, but he wasn't surprised when she responded, "I'll owl them now and see if they can come for dinner tonight."

He sighed. He knew that Molly needed their children right now and that it wouldn't be fair of him to ask her to wait for that. "Ok," he said softly. He pushed himself out of the armchair for the first time since they'd gotten home.

"Where are you going?" she asked anxiously, and he winced, knowing that he had to be honest but knowing that his answer was likely to bring her more pain.

"I have a headache," he said softly. "I'm going upstairs to lie down."

Neither of them said another word. Arthur made his way out of the room, but Molly merely sat there, her face white, her hand over her mouth.


	3. Telling Bill

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: Now we really get going. And the chapter is long like it should be.**

**Katy – this one's entirely for you. **

Fleur was sitting in her living room when the owl arrived. She frowned quizzically at the parchment. It wasn't like Molly to send cryptic messages in the middle of the day requesting their company at the Burrow that same night. She shook her head, trying to shake off her sense of foreboding. If something were wrong, she'd know it already. Weasleys were notorious for not being able to keep secrets. There was no sense in worrying.

But she couldn't help it. She worried all afternoon. Even Bill did not seem as worried as she was when he got home and was informed of their dinner plans. He simply kissed the tip of her nose, murmured something about adorable French women and their premonitions, and went whistling off to brush his hair and change his shirt. She scowled but couldn't seem to get all that worked up about it anymore. It was maddening how he always had this effect on her.

By the time they flooed over to his parents' house, she was as relaxed as he was. They stumbled out of the fireplace with smiles on their faces, only to find Arthur and Molly awaiting them on the couch. Neither of them was smiling.

All of Fleur's fears from the afternoon came rushing back, and she had to force herself not to clutch Bill's hand. But he didn't seem to think anything of it.

"Hi Mum, Dad," he said, walking over and kissing his mother. He squeezed his father's shoulder, and Fleur followed suit, kissing each of her in-laws in turn. They tried to smile. She could see that. She could also see that they didn't succeed.

"So what are we eating tonight?" Bill asked, strangely oblivious to the tension in the room. Molly looked at him oddly, and Fleur knew she'd been right to worry. But her mother-in-law seemed content to play Bill's game for the moment.

"I just made a small stew," she said, and Arthur let out a small snort of amusement. Molly smiled sheepishly. "Ok, maybe _small_ is the wrong adjective…" she conceded, and Arthur took her hand in his own, kissing her palm gently. She suddenly found herself blinking furiously. She couldn't do this now, not with Bill and Fleur sitting before her. But it was too late, and she was forced to hurry from the room. Bill looked after her curiously for a moment before turning to his father.

"Is Mum ok?" he asked, concern evident in his voice, and Arthur just stared at him for a moment.

"She's – she's fine," he said slowly. He wondered if this were it. Was this the time to tell them? Realizing it might be easier for Molly to not have to hear it again, he suddenly knew it was.

"We invited you over tonight because we have some news," he said. His voice sounded strange in his ears, and he could tell Bill could hear it too. He leaned forward, his eyes worried.

"What is it, Dad?"

Arthur let out a deep breath. It was now or never. "Your mother and I – we went to St. Mungo's today. I've been having some headaches these past few weeks, and we wanted to make sure it was nothing serious…."

Here, he trailed off. He didn't know how he was going to say this, and this was just the first time. But before he even had a chance to continue, Bill interrupted.

"Well, it isn't anything serious, is it?"

Arthur gazed at him for a minute. He had to hold onto this one last image of his oldest child before he changed his world forever. Then he nodded his head.

"It – it is." Bill paled, but he waited. Fleur inched over on the couch to be closer to him, but all of his attention was focused on his father right now.

"The healers said it's something that rarely affects wizards." His lips twisted in a wry smile. "Ironic, isn't it? That your father, who's always been obsessed with muggles, now has a muggle disease? I never meant for it to go _this_ far."

But neither Bill nor Fleur laughed.

"What ees eet?" Fleur asked when Bill said nothing. Arthur looked at her now.

"It's called a tumor. They said – they said it's malignant. Apparently, it's so advanced that there's really nothing they can do to treat it. That means that there isn't much time."

Fleur felt a shudder roll through her, and she swallowed hard. This wouldn't do. She needed to be strong. She needed to be strong for Bill. But then she turned to him and was surprised by the determination in his eyes as he looked straight at the man she knew he revered above all others.

"Well, Dad, I think you're going to get a second opinion," he said calmly. But Arthur shook his head.

"I – no, Bill. The healer said this wasn't a mistake, and I believe her. She showed us the results of the tests they did. This won't change with a second opinion. It's just the way it is."

There was silence, but Fleur was surprised to see that Bill's expression didn't change. Even when Molly finally returned, he didn't weaken, merely watched her with no hint of emotion. She looked at all of them curiously, her eyes unmistakably red rimmed, and Arthur said softly, "I told them, dear."

She looked stricken.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "We were supposed to do this together. I should have been here!"

Fleur felt a sob rising in her throat as she watched her mother-in-law rush to Arthur's chair and grasp his hand. This was going to be unbearable if only because this was not a marriage that should ever end. Not for any reason. But she swallowed hard again. She couldn't give in if Bill weren't. She looked at him now, but he wouldn't look at her, and he still wouldn't touch her. He merely said to his mother, "What can we do to help, Mum?"

Molly smiled tremulously at them. "Just – be here when we need you. Oh, and don't say anything to any of your siblings just yet. We want to tell everyone individually first."

Bill blanched slightly but recovered himself before any of them could really be sure he had. "When do you think you'll be doing that?" he asked. His voice was casual, but Fleur was sure she could hear the strain under his words. She shifted even closer to him but was surprised – and slightly hurt – when he ever-so-slightly shifted away. His parents didn't seem to notice.

"Well, we'd like to tell everyone this week if we can, but we need to do it in person. We want to get Charlie here tomorrow, and then Percy can come the next night. Then Ron and Hermione and Harry and Ginny. We're still not sure if we should tell them separately or together…" Molly mused, and Bill answered quickly, "Separately."

She looked up in surprise, but he nodded. "Ron – well, this isn't easy news. He – he'll need Hermione there with him. I'm not so sure he'll want to have Harry right there too."

Slowly, she nodded. He was probably right. But … if this were such hard news, then why did _he_ seem so… collected? She looked at him, the concern evident in her eyes, but he looked back calmly.

"I'll be ok, Mum," he said, nodding as if to confirm this to himself. "I just wanted to know when the rest of them will be finding out so I can be there if they need anything."

Now she smiled, and so did Arthur. "We're proud of you," he said softly, and suddenly, Bill was forced to look back at him. He'd been trying to avoid his eyes, but he couldn't do that now. After a moment of eye contact that seemed to hold everyone motionless, they each looked away. Molly realized quickly that it was time to eat and clapped her hands together.

"Let's move in to the kitchen, shall we?" she asked, and Fleur leapt to her feet, eager to be able to do _something_ to help.

Dinner was quiet. It was hard to imagine that any other topic could be relevant right at this moment, but none of them wanted to discuss Arthur's illness, so there was very little to say. Bill somehow managed to tell stories from Gringotts, but they were through much more quickly than Molly expected. She was equally surprised, though, when Bill said hastily, "Mum, Dad, we really ought to be getting home. You're – you're telling Charlie tomorrow?"

A look of sadness crossed his parents' faces as they each nodded, and Bill nodded too, abruptly.

"Right, then. I'm sure we'll talk to you tomorrow too."

He turned to Fleur, still not reaching out for her as he customarily did, but his eyes pleaded with her to leave with him immediately. She crossed to him quickly.

"We weel talk to you tomorrow," she echoed, her voice soft. She longed to take Bill's hand, but she knew unequivocally right now that this was the last thing she should do.

They hugged and kissed Molly and Arthur, Bill careful to keep each one very brief. But he forced a smile before quickly departing through the garden ahead of his wife. By the time she reached the gate, he'd already gone. With a deep breath, she disapparated to Shell Cottage.

Bill wasn't outside when she got there. She walked inside slowly and found him sitting on the couch, staring at the wall before him. Their wedding photo was displayed there, and she found herself joining him so she, too, could look back at the day when her life really began in every way that mattered. It was a group photo, and she couldn't help but smile to see all of the Weasleys crowding around them, trying to get in the shot. Arthur was standing beside Bill, and he had his arm around his son's shoulders, and she realized for the first time that she'd never noticed that before.

"He's supposed to know his grandchildren."

Bill's voice was flat, but Fleur felt a stab of pain at his words. Slowly, she turned to look at her husband. He was still staring at the photo, but now he was biting his lip. She shifted closer, and this time, he didn't move away.

"Bill," she whispered, but he didn't look at her.

"He's supposed to _know_ his _grandchildren_," he repeated, and this time, his voice shook.

"I know," she whispered. Slowly, she reached out to take his hand. The force with which he clung to hers surprised her, but then he turned to look at her, and his expression was no longer blank. His eyes were full of tears, and his lower lip was trembling. He shook his head even as he pulled her to him.

"I don't know how to do this," he whispered, and he buried his face in her long blond hair. She rubbed his back as her shoulder dampened under the steady flow of his tears. It was a long time until his breathing finally started to ease, and he pulled away from her at last, sniffling and wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Fleur's eyes were pained as she looked at him, and he finally looked back at her, his eyes haunted.

"I don't know how to do this," he repeated, his voice calmer this time.

"Do what?" Fleur asked. "What ees there to do?"

He stared at her. "The others," he said slowly as if this should be obvious. "How am I going to help the others through this if I can barely help myself? I mean… it's my _father_," he choked. He turned his head away, but Fleur was still sitting beside him, and she started smoothing his hair.

"You weel not worry about zem," she said firmly. "You weel worry about your fazzer, and you weel worry about your muzzer, but you are not een charge of ze rest of zem."

He nodded, but when he turned back, his lip was trembling, and Fleur wrapped her arms around him tightly as he started to cry again. She could say it as much as she wanted to, but she knew her husband, and she knew her words were useless. She might not want him to take on the burden of caring for his siblings, but she also knew there was very little chance that he wouldn't. His siblings didn't only need him. He needed them -- and he needed for them to know. It was unreasonable to think of asking anything of them right now, but she really wished Molly and Arthur would hurry.


	4. Telling Charlie

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: Thank you so very much for all of the reviews and encouragement. ****E****ven though this isn't QUITE as long as the last ****chapter,**** it certainly sets up an interesting next one. Please continue to review. It makes me want to write ****even ****faster.**

This one was going to be harder. This _child _had always been harder. Bill had been an easy baby, eager to please and smile whenever his parents did. But Charlie had been fussy and prickly, and that hadn't changed much. The only person who'd ever really been able to get through to him had been Bill, but there was no way either Molly or Arthur would even consider asking Bill to be there for this. He seemed to be handling this just fine, but neither of his parents was convinced that this was actually the case.

Molly sent the owl to Hogwarts early in the morning, knowing that Charlie was far more likely to have plans than Bill, but she received his reply mere moments later and sighed with relief. He was free, and he would be there at 6. Walking into the kitchen, she waved his reply in Arthur's direction, and he looked at her questioningly.

"Charlie," she said as she cast the parchment onto the table. "He'll be here at 6. This time, let's make sure we eat first. It would probably be the best shot we'd have of him not flying off the handle."

Arthur nodded. If there were one thing everyone in the family knew about Charlie, it was that the best way to tame him was through his mother's cooking. If he were hungry, he bore a frightening resemblance to the dragons he used to train.

There was silence for a moment, which Molly broke when she said softly, "I'm – I don't know we're going to say this without him …" She trailed off, but Arthur understood. He got out of his seat and approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"We're just going to have to say it as calmly as possible," he murmured in her ear, and she relaxed against him, secure in the safety of his arms. What would she do without this…? She blinked hard. She couldn't think about that right now. It wouldn't help either of them.

"Ok," she said abruptly. She moved away from Arthur and began fiddling with her spices. "I need to figure out what I'm making tonight."

For a moment, Arthur watched her straight back and the unkempt bun in her hair. Realizing after a few minutes that she wasn't going to turn around again, he sighed.

"I'm going to go lie down," he said quietly and left the room. If she did turn around now, he didn't want to see her face.

Charlie arrived promptly at 6 and was clearly surprised to find he was the only one invited to dinner.

"Hi Mum," he said grinning, walking over to kiss her hello. She forced herself to smile back. _Dinner, get through dinner_, kept echoing through her mind.

"Come sit," she urged. "Your father will be in as soon as he's finished washing up."

He obediently took his customary seat at the table and found his mouth watering.

"Smells delicious," he said, and Molly smiled as she sent plates soaring to the table.

"So how have things been at Hogwarts? Are the magical creatures behaving themselves for Hagrid?"

Charlie laughed and predictably launched into stories of Hagrid's most recent classes, which kept them both entertained until Arthur joined them. Dinner passed pleasantly, and Arthur and Molly were surprised to find that they were even able to enjoy themselves. They were even able to mislead themselves into thinking that maybe this boded well for the after dinner conversation.

They had moved into the living room, and Arthur had taken up residence in his customary arm chair while Molly joined Charlie on the couch. For a moment, there was silence, and that was when Charlie looked back and forth between his parents.

"Is everything ok?" he asked. They looked at each other. It was time.

"Charlie," Arthur said slowly, spreading his hands across his knees. "Your mother and I have something we need to talk to you about."

He looked at Molly, and she nodded. He would need to just come right out and say it. With Charlie, there was no such thing as hesitation. If they didn't get straight to the point, they just got frustrated, and the last any of them needed right now was to add frustration to the mix.

"I had an appointment at St. Mungo's yesterday. I'd been having headaches, so we went to make sure it wasn't anything serious. But – well, we didn't get the news we'd been hoping for. I don't know if you've ever heard of the muggle term 'tumor,' but that's apparently what I have. The healer – well she said I have a few months."

He let out an explosive breath but was surprised to find that it was almost easier saying it all at once like that. It did not, however, look like any of that was at all easy for Charlie to understand. He was staring at his father very much like Arthur assumed he once looked at Hungarian Horntails – like they possessed a danger to his own well being. He shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't a good sign.

Molly put her hand on Charlie's shoulder, but he shrugged it off impatiently.

"What did you mean when you said you had a few months," he asked stiffly, sounding very much like he was biting off each word.

Molly shot Arthur a look, indicating that she would give this a try. "It means," she said quietly, "that the healer said the prognosis is – well, it's fatal." Her voice trembled, and she swallowed hard. But Charlie wouldn't look at her. He wouldn't look at his father either. He stared at his lap for a moment before he finally looked up again.

"You're going to get a second opinion, of course," he said, his voice brittle, but Arthur shook his head slowly, unsurprised by the flash of anger in his son's eyes.

"No, Charlie, we're not. We've discussed this. The healer – well, she showed us the results. This isn't a mistake. There's no reason to speak to anyone else."

Charlie's laughter sounded nothing like it normally did, and now he stood, running his hands through his hair and glaring at his mother and father.

"I'm glad _you_ discussed it," he said, his voice rising. "I'm glad the rest of us don't get a say in these life or death decisions that you're making." He was shouting now. He turned as if to leave, but then something seemed to occur to him, and he turned back. His body was trembling but whether with rage or another emotion he wouldn't admit to, his parents couldn't be sure.

"Who else knows," he demanded accusingly, and Arthur said evenly, "We told Bill and Fleur last night. We've decided to tell each of you alone and in chronological order. So please don't say anything to the others yet. We'll let you know once it's ok."

Charlie spun from his mother to his father and back again, seemingly at a loss for words. Then, without warning, he turned and raced out the door. He suddenly couldn't bear to look at either of them. He had to get to Shell Cottage.


	5. Bill and Charlie

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine; this story is.

**A/N: I didn't think the site was going to let me post this tonight! I hope this chapter lives up to all of the (very demanding!) expectations. It should also answer the question that keeps cropping up. I did try to make it as long as possible. Please read and review! I appreciate it so much. (I wrote this one so quickly before I could lose momentum -- don't expect another update quite as fast. Sorry! Real life does intrude sometimes to a certain extent, and sorry Katy -- I don't think an excuse note would satisfy this group of unsatisfied teenagers.)**

Somehow, Bill wasn't surprised. He and Fleur were sitting in the living room, each with a book in their hands, when they both heard the crack in the front yard. They looked at one another for a moment, and then Fleur got silently to her feet and went to their bedroom. This was not going to be an easy conversation, but it would be easier if she weren't there.

Bill wished he shared this same opinion. Well, he did know that Fleur was right to leave, but he wished she didn't have to. As much as he knew he'd have to do this alone, he didn't want to. But now Charlie was standing at the door, banging on the window, and there was no more time to stall.

With a sigh, Bill got to his feet and moved slowly to let his brother in. For a moment, they just looked at one another, and then Charlie said harshly, "So you've known since yesterday."

Bill stared at his younger brother for a moment before deciding that rising to the bait wasn't going to help either of them.

"Hi, Charlie. Come on in."

For a moment, Charlie was nonplussed. Bill took advantage of this to walk over to the table and take a seat. He looked at where Charlie was still hovering by the door and said quietly, "Why don't you join me. We can have some tea."

Charlie stumbled over and pulled his own chair back forcefully. Bill suddenly realized that his younger brother was under the distinct impression that if he didn't stay angry, he would be dealing with all sorts of emotions to which he was generally very opposed. One thing was clear: no matter which way this went, it was going to be impossible.

Bill waited. He knew Charlie wasn't finished with his diatribe. He was right.

"How could you let me walk into that?" he demanded, his voice still very, very angry. But he chose the wrong words. Because now Bill was angry too.

"How could I _let_ you walk into that?" Bill demanded. "You don't think I walked into that too? What was I supposed to do? Mum and Dad wanted to tell each of us alone. That was THEIR decision."

Bill's voice was as cold as ice, but Charlie's matched his frigid temperature.

"And aren't THEY just making the smartest decisions these days. For Merlin's sake, Bill! They're not even going to get a second opinion. EVERYONE knows to get a second opinion, damn it!"

"They said there was no way this was a mistake," Bill started, but Charlie cut in again.

"Oh, like they're experts? Like they KNOW FOR SURE?" His voice had risen on each word, and now he was shouting. "THIS ISN'T FAIR, BILL. WE CAN'T FUCKING DO THIS AGAIN."

He was breathing heavily and glaring at Bill, and Bill glared right back.

"And this is the best way of dealing with it? Really, Charlie, you don't think _I know all of this?_ Do you think I don't care or something? Please, tell me how you think _I_ feel about the fact that our father is DYING."

The word shocked both of them, but it shocked Bill more because he hadn't expected to say it. The brothers stared at each other for a moment, and then Bill turned away. He couldn't do this anymore. This whole thing was hard enough.

Charlie opened his mouth to respond to the back of Bill's head, but his mouth was dry, and no words would come out. He swallowed hard and tried again.

"I want them to get a second opinion." His voice wasn't harsh anymore. In fact, it sounded so little like his own that Bill turned back quickly. But now Charlie was staring at the table as if completely fascinated by its rough surface. Bill could see, though, that he was blinking hard, and he knew what he needed to do.

Without another word, he got out of his seat and came around to where Charlie sat, immobile.

"I want that too," Bill said as he pulled out the chair to sit beside him, his voice unnaturally deep. He cleared his throat. "But Charlie, I don't think we have much of a choice here. They seem pretty sure that this wasn't a mistake. I think we just have to figure out – figure out a way to deal with this…"

He trailed off, biting his lip and blinking hard. Charlie merely nodded as he continued to stare at the table. The two brothers sat in silence until Charlie forced himself to speak again.

"I'm – I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I – I didn't mean to come here and blame _you_ for any of this. I just – I couldn't stay there any longer, and I didn't – I didn't know where else to go. And I don't know – I don't know how – " His voice broke, and he buried his face in his arms. Now he really _couldn't_ say another word if he'd tried.

Bill stared for a moment at Charlie's hunched form, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He wondered if it were safe yet to touch Charlie, or if he would be summarily greeted by a swift shove and an unceremonious exit. He decided to chance it.

He hitched his chair closer to his younger brother, put his arm across his shoulders, and was greeted by a response he hadn't expected. Charlie's shoulders started to shake. Bill moved even closer and leaned in because Charlie was mumbling words that Bill couldn't distinguish.

"This can't – it can't be happening. I don't – how will we – I still miss – I need…"

Bill's eyes filled with tears, and he closed them tightly. "I feel the same way," he whispered.

Slowly, by inches, Charlie raised his head, but Bill moved his chair away from the table abruptly and walked to the window. Charlie studied his older brother as he stood with his back to the room, and he understood.

"Bill," he whispered, but he didn't turn around. Charlie swallowed hard. It was his turn now. But he got lucky. Fleur had heard.

She walked out of the bedroom, took one look at Charlie's red eyes and Bill's unyielding back, and knew what needed to be done. Quietly, she joined her husband at the window. And as Charlie watched in wonder, his tough older brother took one look at her and started to cry. Fleur wrapped her arms around him, and he buried his face in her shoulder, choking on words that only she could hear. After a few minutes when Bill, surprisingly, still hadn't calmed down, Charlie got up and walked over to them, placed his hand on Bill's back, and whispered, "It's going to be ok, mate. We're going to get through this somehow. I promise I won't do this again."

Fleur looked at Charlie, her eyes full of tears, but a tremulous smile on her face. Bill released his grip on his wife at last and turned to his brother.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just that – it's Dad. And I don't know how to do this either."

For a moment, they stared at each other, and then they were hugging without any of them realizing just how it happened. By the time they released each other, they were both marginally calmer, and they joined Fleur where she was waiting for them at the table.

"So," Bill said, his voice relatively normal, "how badly did it go at the Burrow?"

Charlie winced. "It was pretty bad," he admitted. He sighed. "I suppose I should go back there and apologize." But he looked very much like he didn't want to, and Bill asked softly, "Want me to go with you?"

Without looking at him, Charlie nodded. Bill's chair scraped the floor as he pushed it back to stand.

"Let's go now," he said, and there was a hint of a smile on his face when he added, "before you can change your mind. We all know how much you love to apologize."

Now Charlie's lips twisted, but he, too, got to his feet. Bill turned to Fleur.

"We'll be back soon," he promised, and she stood to kiss him quickly.

"I weel be here," she promised, and even that was enough to make Bill relax. Once he'd quickly performed a cooling spell to drain the red from their faces, they were ready to go.

Once they arrived at the Burrow, though, it was clear to Bill that his parents had known that they would return – and he even knew that he was right in thinking "they." They'd known Charlie would go to Bill, and that was why they'd let him go without a fuss.

Charlie stumbled forward, and Molly's arms went around him. Bill merely leaned against the doorframe and watched as his mother held him close, his father coming over to touch his hair gently. He swallowed hard, wishing he hadn't agreed to accompany Charlie for this. But the hug was quickly ended when Charlie pulled away abruptly. He apologized, albeit while staring at his feet, and their parents accepted it immediately. No one seemed to want any more of a scene and after promises that they would be telling Percy the next day, Bill and Charlie found themselves back at Shell Cottage faster than they'd thought possible.

They let out identical sighs of relief when they noticed the bottles of firewhisky that Fleur had left out for them, and without a word, they each grabbed one and walked out to sit on the low wall of the garden. It was too dark to appreciate the view, but even though they sat side by side, they stared out into the vastness.

"It's going to be terrible when they tell the others, isn't it," Charlie said quietly, and Bill grunted his agreement.

"Especially George…" Charlie continued but stopped when Bill looked up abruptly. His face was stricken, and Charlie turned to him, worry creasing his brow.

"What is it, Bill?"

"George!" he said urgently. "When Mum and Dad told us how they were going to tell all of us, they never mentioned George. You don't think they're not…"

He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. If their parents thought they'd need to keep this from George, that couldn't mean anything good. Not for any of them. Not at all.


	6. Telling Percy

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: Ok, so I gave into "peer" pressure and got the Percy chapter done. I hope it continues to live up to expectations. Please keep reading and reviewing. Oh, the places we'll go. ;)**

Percy came to the Burrow with his father the following night. They were in the living room talking about the goings on at the Ministry when Molly walked in from her shopping in the village, and she smiled to see them sitting together. Even two years later, neither she nor Arthur could help but feel relieved that they'd gotten their son back. Molly had always said they would, but there were nights when even she wondered how long it might take.

Percy smiled at her when she walked over to him, and he rose to hug her and allow her to inspect him critically.

"Percy, dear, you're looking awfully thin," Molly said, and her son responded with the patented Weasley eye roll and smile.

"I'm fine, Mum. I eat three square meals a day, and I never skip breakfast."

Molly stared at him suspiciously for a moment and then surprised Percy by smiling.

"Ok," she said simply. She moved to her husband and kissed him, looking into his eyes for a moment longer than she normally did. Percy noticed. He cleared his throat.

"To what do I owe the honor of this solo invitation?" he asked. Neither of his parents answered right away. They continued to look at one another, and then Arthur sighed.

"There's something I haven't mentioned when I've seen you at work, Perce. Your mother and I thought it would be best to discuss it here."

Percy looked from one to the other, and his smile faded.

"What is it, Dad?" he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. It had the effect of making him sound slightly pompous. Nether of his parents noticed.

Arthur had now said this twice in the past two days, and he suddenly seemed to be struck dumb. Molly looked at him in concern and quickly realized the problem. She turned to Percy.

"Your father and I – well, your father's been having headaches lately. We went to St. Mungo's a few days ago. They did some tests and discovered that these weren't… just headaches." She stopped. She had to. She was suddenly breathing heavily, and she didn't know _how_ Arthur had managed to tell Bill and Charlie so quickly. But he couldn't even seem to pick up the thread now, and she forced herself to continue.

"It's a tumor, Percy. The healer said it's malignant and that there isn't much time. She – she said a few months."

There was complete silence. Molly looked at Percy; Arthur looked at his feet, and Percy stared at the clock above the mantle. For a long time (three minutes, Percy noted), no one spoke. Neither of his parents took it back. And that's when he slowly turned to look at them.

"That can't be true," he said matter of factly. When neither of his parents answered him, he repeated it.

"Dad, that can't be true. Tell Mum that it isn't."

But Arthur couldn't seem to look up from his knees, and now Molly turned to him in consternation. Up until this moment, he'd seemed calmly accepting, so what was he …

She didn't have to wonder for long. With what was clearly great effort, he looked up at his son and choked, "It is true, Percy. I'm – I'm sorry."

Now Percy was speechless. He stared at his father for a long moment, his eyes troubled.

"Dad?"

Arthur wouldn't – or couldn't – answer. After another seemingly endless pause where Percy continued to stare at him, he said it again, but this time… his voice broke.

"Dad?"

Arthur had to look up. Percy sounded like he had when he was four years old and woke up in terror from one of his nightmares that the twins had chased him up a tree and left him up there without his glasses. And now that Arthur got a good look at him, he saw that he looked that way too.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and then Percy asked, his voice shaking "How – how _many_ months?"

Molly cleared her throat. "They didn't say, Percy. We're going back next week for another appointment. We'll – we'll know more then."

Percy turned to her then. His eyes were wide now, and – Molly noticed, her heart sinking – his lower lip was trembling.

"Mum," he whispered, "there has to be another person to speak to. Maybe a muggle hospital? Anything…"

But both Molly and Arthur were prepared for this suggestion, although Percy was the first to mention it, and they shook their heads.

"No, Percy." It was Arthur who spoke, and Percy turned to him almost against his will. His father's pained brown eyes froze his arguments in his throat. Arthur cleared his throat and said, "There are no other options anymore. We just – we have to accept this for what it is and make the most of the time I do have left."

Time… Percy looked at the clock again but this time for more of a reason to hide his face from his parents. He'd wasted so much time, he suddenly realized. And he also suddenly realized that he needed to get away.

He stumbled to his feet and bolted for the door. He couldn't sit there anymore because this – this couldn't be true.

Once in the garden, though, he froze. Where could he go? He could disapparate to Shell Cottage, but he didn't know if Bill knew, and he certainly didn't want to be the one to tell him if he didn't. He could go to Hogsmeade, but then he'd have to walk all the way to Hogwarts, and there was no guarantee that he'd even find Charlie. George … Ron … Ginny… he couldn't put this on his younger siblings. He was supposed to be there for _them_. He shook himself as a chill raced through him. There was _nowhere_ for him to go.

He turned around slowly and gazed at the Burrow. _This_ was home. _This_ was where he should be able to go when the world got too hard. _This_… this was never supposed to get too hard.

But, he realized, if he ran now, he'd only be wasting more time. Taking a deep breath, he walked back into the living room. His father was still sitting as he'd left him, but Molly was in the kitchen. When she heard his footsteps, she appeared in the doorway and looked at him anxiously. He couldn't say anything to soothe her fears, though. He couldn't say anything at all. To his shock – although not his parents' – he burst into tears.

He was vaguely conscious of a desire to flee the room, but he couldn't get his feet to move. He collapsed onto the couch, knocked his glasses off, and covered his face with his hands. He was hunched over, trying to control his breathing, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Thinking it would be his mother, he slowly removed his hands and was stunned to see Arthur sitting beside him.

His father's eyes were shining, but his voice was calm when he said, "No matter what happens, Percy, I just want you to know that one of the things I'm most grateful for is that you are back in this family. I know I won't have any regrets because you've shown me that we did a good job raising our kids."

Percy stared at him, the lump in his throat making swallowing painful, but he finally managed to say, "But Dad – we could have had so much more time if I hadn't – if I hadn't been such a git."

Arthur smiled weakly. "Stop listening to your brothers, Percy. That's George's word, and we both know it isn't true either. We always taught you to stand up for what you believed in, and you did what you thought was right. The most important thing is that you came back, and you did it when it mattered most. Fred forgave you, Percy, and like we've all said so many times in the past two years, that's good enough. You know your mother and I forgave you a long time ago."

Percy nodded and let out a shuddering breath. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Percy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. But he spoke, and his voice shook slightly when he said, "I want – I want to move back home."

Molly's eyes filled, and she couldn't contain herself any longer. Crossing the room swiftly to where her husband and son were sitting, she kneeled before them.

"That's wonderful, dear," she said, and her smile was genuine though her voice wobbled dangerously.

For a moment, none of them spoke, but Arthur silently handed Percy his handkerchief so he could wipe his face. Finally, Molly cleared her throat.

"Let's eat, shall we?"

They adjoined to the kitchen and were eating listlessly when Arthur realized they still hadn't told Percy about their plans of notifying his siblings. He outlined it quickly, and Percy nodded mutely. He was still too upset to notice that they didn't mention George.


	7. Tea and Talk

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N:**** Well, one of the issues slowly starts to reach resolution in this chapter (although I couldn't wrap it up entirely**** – t****hese anxious reviews are too much fun!) Sorry to be mean. ****T****his ****is**** an important development**** and the next one ****is ****as well.**

Fleur jolted awake, and she didn't know why. She was usually a steady, heavy sleeper, and to awake so suddenly made her heart pound and her breathing shallow. She turned quickly to Bill, wondering if whatever had woken her had done the same to him, and then she saw – it was _Bill_ who had woken her.

He was thrashing restlessly, and his mouth was twisted in a grimace. Fleur glanced out the window, saw that it was _not_ a full moon, and decided to end his nightmare.

"Bill – Bill!" she said, her voice low. He didn't hear her, didn't wake, and she put her hand on his arm, trying to still his restless movements.

He gasped at her touch and sat bolt upright just as he'd done during his many months of membership in the Order. She instantly wondered – as she always did – if they would ever be able to heal _those _scars – the scars of fear and constant vigilance – and then thought sadly that they probably would not. She couldn't imagine a world where Bill never worried. This was who he was.

But there was no time to think about any of that right now. He'd turned to her, and she was startled to see his eyes brimming with tears.

"What ees eet?" she whispered, and he shook his head, his mouth still twisted as he struggled to keep his composure.

"I – I was having a nightmare," he managed to say, his voice shaking. "M – my – my father – he was sick. I – I couldn't – I couldn't tell him I love – I couldn't – and Fred –, " and suddenly his voice broke. He turned away and buried his face in his pillow as his shoulders started to shake. Fleur rubbed his back in small soothing circles. It was a while until his breathing eased, and then he turned back to look at her.

"Thank you," he whispered, and she tried to smile at him but failed miserably. In an effort to keep her own tears at bay, she cleared her throat and asked, "Would you like some tea? I know your muzzer claims eet solves all of ze problems, and even zough I sink ze British put too much stock in zis, eet might make you feel better now."

Now Bill smiled. "I do love you, you know," he said as he leaned over to kiss her gently. She looked at him questioningly, and he finally nodded. "Yes. Please. Tea does sound good right now."

Fleur smiled at him before pushing aside the covers and climbing out of bed. She reached for her robe and tied it around her waist tightly. For a moment, she paused, looking at Bill who had leaned back against his own pillows, his eyes closed. Then she sighed inaudibly and found her way across the darkened room to the door. She may not have understood the English preoccupation with tea, but if it would make Bill feel better, she'd fill the house with steaming mugs.

She walked across the living room, taking care to keep her footsteps soft. Charlie was asleep on the couch, and the last thing he needed was to be woken in the middle of the night as well. She knew only too well about the restless sleep he'd had just one night prior. Bill had been up with him for two hours, talking, as the two of them tried to figure out the best way to approach their parents about the one problem they couldn't seem to get past. _Why_ were they not going to tell George? Neither of them could come up with an answer, but neither were they ready to ask their parents. Fleur, for one, couldn't understand that. She couldn't see how this problem was going to be solved if they _didn't_ speak to their parents. But she said nothing. Bill would probably ask her eventually, but she was willing to leave him be until he was ready. He could talk to Charlie and stay somewhat detached. He couldn't do the same with her.

No amount of careful movements, however, could keep Charlie from waking out of what clearly must be a very light sleep. She heard him tossing and turning and was unsurprised when he called "Hey," in a low, surprised voice. She walked to the doorway of the kitchen and smiled apologetically.

"I am sorry I woke you," she said, "but Bill ees awake, and 'e sought some tea might 'elp 'im sleep better. Would you like some as well?"

Charlie flushed. "I didn't mean to imply…" he started, but Fleur held up a hand to stop him.

"Eet ees no bozzer," she said. "I weel make enough for all sree of us."

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Fleur had returned to the kitchen when she sensed a presence in the doorway. Expecting it to be Bill, she turned but was surprised to find her brother-in-law leaning against the doorframe. Charlie was dressed in sweatpants and a bright orange t-shirt that clashed horribly with his very rumpled hair, and in any other circumstances, this would be laughable, but his eyes were troubled. Fleur looked at him questioningly.

"Bill was having a nightmare, wasn't he." It wasn't a question, and she could hear the concern in his voice. She hesitated a moment before nodding. If this had been anyone else, she would have immediately denied it, but there was no denying that Charlie was the brother with whom Bill was most comfortable. She wished now, though, that she had denied it because Charlie was looking increasingly more upset.

"Would it –" He had to stop and clear his throat. It was clear that this was not something he wanted to say, and Fleur waited patiently. After a moment, he blurted, "Would it be easier if I left? Does it – does it make it harder for him to have me here?"

Now Fleur was stunned. "Charlie," she began, looking into his eyes intently, "it would be harder for 'im _not_ to 'ave you 'ere. Zis – zis ees going to be hard for all of us. I sink zat – zat having you and ze rest of your bruzzers might be ze only sing zat makes any of zis _supportable_"

Charlie let out an explosive breath and nodded quickly, suddenly seeming to find his feet fascinating. Fleur understood. She quickly turned back to the tea to give him his privacy.

Once the tea was ready, she brought it out and sent Charlie to get his brother. When the three of them were settled around the table with the small lamp burning in the far corner of the room, Bill spoke.

"Charlie – we need to do something about this whole George thing. I don't understand why Mum and Dad didn't mention his name, but they _have_ to tell him, and they have to tell him next."

Charlie nodded in agreement. "Of course they do. But how do we get them to do that?"

There was silence while they sipped their tea. Finally, Fleur decided that she couldn't wait any longer.

"I sink ze two of you need to go to your parents' 'ouse and tell zis to zem. It weel be 'ard, but don't you sink eet ees important enough?"

The brothers stared at her and then turned to each other.

"It's so – simple," Bill said weakly. He shook his head. "Why didn't we come up with that?"

Charlie sighed. "Because it's the last thing we want to do even though we know we have to." He turned to his sister-in-law, but the smile he gave her was forced. "Thank you for showing us how completely stubborn we're being. You're right, Fleur, but this is one conversation I, for one, don't want to have."

She studied both of them speculatively and said, "Well, isn't zere safety in numbers? Didn't your parents tell Percy tonight? Why don't ze sree of you go to zem togezzer?"

There was a moment of silence while they contemplated this new thought and then Bill said, "She's right, Charlie. Let's do this."

Charlie nodded even though he couldn't keep the misery out of his eyes.

"When should we go, though?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He cleared his throat. "It has to be before tomorrow night. That's when they're planning on telling Ron."

"We'll have to go in the morning then," Bill said softly. He looked like he had more to say, an idea that he didn't want to share.

"What is it, Bill?" Charlie asked. His voice was resigned as if he knew that he would end up going along with whatever this was – but that he also knew that he very much wouldn't want to.

"We – we should go check on Percy," Bill said haltingly. "Now. I don't think he should be alone tonight."

Charlie tried to repress a sigh. Bill's overprotective big brother tendencies could only be tamed for so long.

"Ok," he agreed. He glanced at the clock. 2 am. "Do we want to go now?"

Bill looked at Charlie. "Do _you_ think he's actually sleeping tonight?"

The fact that they were all sitting around the table having this discussion was answer enough. Without another word, they set down their mugs and left the room. Fleur followed Bill into their bedroom and sat on their bed, cross legged, watching him pull on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt.

"You need to do zis now?" she asked softly. He glanced at her and nodded. For a moment, they held each other's eyes, and finally, Fleur nodded as well. "Zey are lucky to 'ave you," she whispered, rising to kiss him. He held her to him tightly for a long moment, and she knew he was trying to draw on her strength. She wished she could give it all to him. When he pulled away, though, he smiled at her, though a bit crookedly, and then left the room.

Charlie was sitting on the couch, waiting. The brothers looked at one another, and then Bill said, "We'll go to his flat first. If he isn't there, then we'll know he stayed at Mum and Dad's."

"Sounds fine," Charlie muttered. He did _not_ look as if he relished having this conversation, and Bill couldn't blame him. He also, however, could not see that they had much of a choice.


	8. Graveyard

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: I took a guess as to which twin was older. I've seen theories about both, but I have no recollection of JKR saying definitively either way. This way, my little scene makes sense, and you can all start breathing easier.**

Arthur stared at the ceiling, listening to Molly's steady breathing beside him. He wondered how quiet he would have to be if he tried to get out of bed without waking her. After another moment of staring at her sleeping form, he decided to risk it. He hardly breathed as he got into regular clothes and then opened the door only wide enough to slide out. Once on the landing, the door closed silently behind him, he let out a deep breath. As he made his way down the stairs, he thought, as he passed Percy's door, that he heard voices inside, and he shook his head. Percy must have been having a nightmare. Whenever that happened, he had a tendency to talk in his sleep. Arthur couldn't blame him.

Once he got to the kitchen, he grabbed his cloak off the hook by the door and slipped outside. Even though he'd never consciously made the decision, there was no question in his mind about where he was going. There was – there was one person he needed to tell – alone.

He disapparated as soon as he was out of the Burrow's protective enchantments, and moments later, he found himself in the one place he'd never thought he'd have to go to visit any of his children. But here he was, and there was the grave, and there was no denying that it was here where he would always have to go if he wanted to speak to Fred. Well – he suddenly realized – not always.

For what must have been minutes but felt more like hours, he stood and stared at the headstone, and it didn't hurt as much as it had been for the past two years. It didn't take Hermione's brain to figure out why either. Arthur stood there for so long that his fingers started turning numb, and finally, he cleared his throat.

"Well," he said aloud, his first words spoken since his arrival. "I guess I'll be seeing you soon then."

But as he turned to walk away, he felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. Because there was George. And there was very little doubt that he'd been there at least long enough to hear what Arthur had just said.

For what seemed like an eternity, father and son stared at one another. Finally, George spoke. His voice was deceptively casual.

"What are you doing here at this time of night, Dad?"

Arthur thought of turning his question on him, but one look at George's face made the answer clear. For some reason that none of them would ever really be able to understand, he could tell that this was one of those nights for George – one of those nights when the thought of spending the rest of a lifetime without Fred seemed unbearable, when he could hardly catch his breath because all he wanted to do was having his sentences completed just one more time. But knowing all of this didn't make him ache any less for his son, and he knew that he would have to answer honestly and answer now. As much as he'd dreaded telling him, he knew now that he'd never really had a choice.

But even as his father watched him, formulating the words he somehow knew he didn't want to hear, George found that he couldn't look at him. He walked over to the grave, carefully looking only at the headstone, and with his wand, produced some flowers. Arthur watched him and wondered if – on some level, at least – he didn't already know.

"I – " Arthur started, but then he couldn't continue. This was not what he had envisioned, not at all, and the words stuck in his throat. But then George turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes meant one thing to his father: no more stalling.

"I came here to tell Fred about the diagnosis I just got at St. Mungo's, George." His voice was calmer than he'd expected it to be, and he felt slightly relieved. There was no way this conversation could happen if he didn't stay calm. He let out a deep breath and continued.

"Your mother and I decided to tell you kids about this in age order and – well – Fred is – was – older than you. We were – we were going to tell you tonight." He hoped George wouldn't be able to tell that he was lying. George, however, was too stunned by this news to pick up on his father's deception.

"What – what was the diagnosis?" he asked quietly. His voice shook, and he swallowed hard. He was staring at the grave, though, instead of his father, and Arthur found it easier to answer when his son's eyes weren't on him.

"It's – it's what the muggles call a tumor, George. The healer said – well, she said I only have a few months."

George was still staring at the inscription on the headstone, but now the words blurred. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and then he slowly turned to look at his father.

"Dad …" he whispered, and his lip trembled. Arthur felt his own face crumpling for the first time since he'd gotten the news, and he stepped forward quickly, his arms going around the child who had already suffered so much.

For a long time, the only sound in the graveyard was George's wrenching sobs, which he fought mightily. After what felt like an eternity to him, he pulled away from his father and drew his sleeve across his eyes. He turned then but not to his father.

"You take care of Dad, Fred." He wanted to say more, but he couldn't force the words out past the lump in his throat. He felt Arthur's arm go around him again, and he leaned against him. They both stared at the headstone until they became aware of how very cold it had gotten.

"Come back with me," Arthur said quietly. "You can stay in Percy's room with him if you want. He came last night, and when I left, I kind of got the impression that he wasn't sleeping very soundly."

George hesitated for a moment, but he suddenly realized that he could not say no to his father now. He didn't want to either. If Arthur were going back to the Burrow right now, then George couldn't imagine another place where he'd rather be. With one last look at Fred's grave, he allowed himself to be led away.


	9. Love and Fear

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: ****Thanks so much for all of the reviews for the last chapter. Keep 'em coming – nothing makes me want to write faster. For those who thought the last chapter was sad, though… suffice it to say that writing the end of this one made ME cry. But maybe that's just me. (I hope so for all of your sakes.)**** Ron next, I promise.**

Once they returned to the Burrow, Arthur and George stood for a moment in the living room, not looking at each other. Then Arthur cleared his throat.

"Are you going to Percy's room?" he asked, his voice low. George nodded, not trusting himself to speak. For a moment, his father studied him, and then, realizing that there was nothing more he could say right then, turned and made his way to his own bedroom. He could only hope that Molly was still asleep. He could only know he wouldn't be that lucky.

…

George did pause for a moment before his own bedroom door. He stared at the familiar marks on the wood, wondering if it would hurt more right now to see Fred's bed and then realized that this was not something he needed to wonder about. Shaking his head, he continued on up the stairs to Percy's room. If someone had told him three years ago that he'd be going to Percy's room in the middle of the night for comfort, he and Fred would have scoffed at them and then turned their hair green. Right now, he couldn't imagine where else he could go. The knowledge made him swallow hard.

He stopped in front of Percy's door and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The voices Arthur had passed off as Percy's sleeptalk were still mumbling behind the door, but George quickly recognized the other two. He pushed open the door hurriedly and sighed. Even considering the lateness of the hour – nothing about the scene before him was a surprise.

Percy had propped his pillows up behind him and was sitting against his headboard. Bill faced him, and Charlie sat between them. The haunted looks on each of their faces were what George expected, but the genuine shock when he walked in rattled him.

"Dad – well, I just ran into him," he found himself trying to explain. "We – we were both at the graveyard." He flushed. He was never entirely comfortable with his brothers knowing just how often he needed to visit the grave. None of them seemed to notice that now, though.

"Dad – he told you?" Bill asked. George nodded, surprised.

"Of course he did. Well, he was there to tell Fred. He said he was telling us in age order – which I guess explains why all of you know," he conceded, but then he cleared his throat. "And since Fred is older than I am, he said he was going to tell me tonight."

For a moment, there was a strained silence, and then Bill shrugged almost imperceptibly. Charlie and Percy both saw it and realized what it meant – let's drop this. George, on the other hand, hardly noticed. He was thinking about something else.

"Did he tell any of you _how many_ months?"

No one spoke, and George was forced to look up to see Bill and Percy shaking their heads. Charlie, on the other hand, had his head down. And it was the sight of his tough older brother suddenly vulnerable that broke George. His eyes suddenly blurred again, and he found himself blinking hard even as he turned away from the bed. But his brothers weren't about to let him go, and before he even realized what was happening, Bill's arm was around his shoulders, and he was guiding him to the others. He sat between Bill and Charlie and tried to take deep breaths. But then he heard Charlie.

His breathing was shaky, and George knew he could only hear this because of his unexpectedly close proximity. He took a deep breath. He knew what he had to, but it was going to be hard – but, he reasoned, losing Fred had taught him that hard didn't mean impossible. Sighing, he draped an arm across Charlie's shoulders. For a moment, Charlie stiffened, and then, silently, he turned and buried his face in his younger brother's jumper. George instinctively wrapped his arms tightly around him, and when he looked at Bill over Charlie's shaking shoulders, he could see that Bill, too, had a very tenuous grasp on his own composure. And he didn't even need to turn to hear Percy's sniffling. He sighed. These were going to be an awful couple of months, and – and he didn't even want to think of what it was going to be like _after_… No. He closed his eyes against his own tears. He couldn't think about that now.

…

Molly's eyes were wide open. He should have known they would be. They neither of them had gotten a good night's sleep since his visit to St. Mungo's. He smiled at her apologetically when he walked in, but she merely stared at him, her expression blank.

"Molly," he started to say, but she turned over so she was no longer looking at him. He sighed. Quickly shedding his clothes and pulling on his pajamas, he climbed into bed beside her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Mollywobbles?" he tried, but she stiffened and pulled away. He persisted. "Molly, I'm sorry. I had – I had to go somewhere. I didn't want to wake you since you were actually sleeping. I didn't think you'd wake up before I got back…"

"And you didn't stop to think about what it would be like if I _did_ wake up before you got back?"

Her voice was almost mechanical and sounded nothing like her own. Arthur felt a chill. Sure, his wife was known for her hot temper, but the key word there was hot. Molly Weasley was never _ever_ cold.

"I'm sorry?" he said tentatively. "I am. But I didn't want to wake you if you were actually sleeping…"

She turned over but held herself to the far corner of their bed so they wouldn't even accidentally touch. He saw something in her eyes, though, that explained this new iciness. Fear.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice much softer. "But if something were really wrong, I promise I would wake you. Nothing was wrong. I just – well, I needed to tell Fred."

He hadn't meant to tell her. He'd wanted to just go, do it, and then move on. He'd known it would make her cry. He wasn't wrong. Her eyes filled, and now she reached out a hand to grasp his.

"Oh, Arthur," she said, and her voice trembled. He found that he had to swallow hard.

"And Molly," he said, his own voice wavering, "George – George was there. I told him. I had to. He overheard…"

She went pale. "You _told_ him? But didn't we decide this would be too much for him?"

He shrugged and swallowed again. "We were wrong. He – he took it hard, to be sure, but Molly – he was in better shape than Percy was last night. And – and it's only right that he knows. Imagine what would have happened if we had skipped past him to Ron? He might have never forgiven us, and imagine how hard that would have been for him once I'm…" He couldn't go on and not just because of the lump in his throat.

Molly was no longer looking at him. She had buried her face in her pillow, and her shoulders were shaking in a way they hadn't since Fred's funeral. Even for the past few days, she'd mostly stayed strong – for his sake, he knew – but now something seemed to have hit her hard. Cautiously, he moved across the bed to her and tried to pull her into his arms. He was relieved when she came willingly and burrowed into his chest, her tears soaking the top of his pajamas. She whispered something he couldn't hear, and he cleared his throat.

"What was that?" he tried to ask gently, but it came out as more of a croak.

Now she looked at him, and her face was stained with tears as she said clearly, "I can't do this without you, Arthur."

He bit his lip, but even that couldn't prevent his own tears from spilling over. No words were necessary as they held each other tightly, knowing, as if for the first time, that _this_ -- this time together -- was only temporary.


	10. Telling Ron

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine; this story is.

**A/N: I love Ron very much which may be why this one was so very difficult to write (and why it took me ALL DAY). Katy gets full credit for the line about Molly being a better cook than Hermione – works perfectly, doesn't it?**

By the time Arthur and Molly woke in the morning, there was no sign that there'd been any nocturnal visitors. They were in the kitchen, Arthur reading the Daily Prophet and Molly cooking breakfast when George and Percy came in. It was clear when their mother turned to smile at them that she'd been crying, and George felt the knot in his stomach tighten, but he smiled back and went to put his arms around her.

"Morning, Mum," he whispered, and he squeezed her tightly even as she clung to him for longer than she normally did. After a moment, she pulled away and turned quickly back to the stove to hide the fresh tears in her eyes.

"You both take a seat," she called over her shoulder, struggling to keep her voice level. "I'll have breakfast ready in just a moment."

Arthur lowered his paper and smiled at his sons. "She's glad to have you both here," he confided, winking. "She's never gotten used to just cooking for the two of us."

Percy and George nodded, trying to smile back, but it was hard. The same thought had entered both of their minds at once – Molly would never – NEVER – get used to cooking for herself…

But they had to shake this from their minds as their mother served them breakfast with the closest she could come to a smile, and when they'd just about finished eating, Percy realized he needed to tell his parents that he'd decided to give them a few days before he moved back in. He cleared his throat, but considering no one had said a word in quite a while, his brother and parents turned to him at once. He shifted uncomfortably to suddenly be the center of attention.

"I – I was thinking about this last night," he said quietly. "I do want to move back in, but I figured you might need the next couple of days to tell Ron and Ginny, so I think I'll just wait until the weekend, all right?"

He and George glanced at each other and then just as quickly looked away. No need to tell their parents that this had been Bill's suggestion, that he'd pointed out that Ron, more than any of them, would most likely need the privacy that the rest of them had been given when they'd found out the news. Neither Arthur nor Molly noticed this look, though. In fact, they both seemed relieved.

"That's a good idea, Perce," Arthur said, nodding encouragingly. "You'll probably need the time to pack your things anyway, right?"

Percy nodded quickly and was relieved to find that this ended the conversation. Breakfast finished up quickly after that, and he and George left the Burrow one after the other, Percy flooing over to the Ministry and George to his flat over the shop. Once they'd both gone, Arthur and Molly looked at one another.

"Ron tonight?" Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice normal. Molly nodded.

"I owled him yesterday. He and Hermione will be here at 6. You're going to work, aren't you?"

He nodded, getting to his feet. "I'll be home by 5:30."

They looked at each other for a moment, but neither of them said anything. They didn't have to. It was clear to both of them that they were each dreading this night almost more than they had the others.

…

Ron was ecstatic to get the invitation from his mother. Although he would never tell Hermione this – his mother was so much better at cooking than she was, and he was in dire need of one of her home-cooked meals. He waited for Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron, and when she arrived at almost 6, he was practically faint with hunger.

"Come on, Hermione; let's _go_," he urged, dragging her to the fireplace. She rolled her eyes.

"Calm down, Ronald. You know your mother will have the food ready as soon as we get there. I'm sure you can make it another minute or two."

He looked at her plaintively, and for a moment, she actually doubted the truth of her own words. Then she came to her senses.

"You _can,_" she said firmly, but she allowed him to push her forward to take the green powder. Moments later, they were both standing in the living room of the Burrow, and both Arthur and Molly had rushed forward to greet them.

"Come on into the kitchen," Molly urged, taking one look at her son's face and immediately recognizing his intense need for biscuits. He grinned at her.

"Thanks, Mum," he whispered, rolling his eyes and tilting his head slightly toward Hermione who, fortunately for him, was busy talking to Arthur and didn't notice.

Before long, they were settled around the table, and Ron didn't need to be told twice that he should tuck in. It was some time, naturally, before any speech was possible.

Finally, after they all seemed quite full, Arthur cleared his throat. Ron looked up from his plate expectantly, and Arthur took a deep breath. It was time. Again.

"We – we invited both of you here tonight because we have some news to share." He sighed. He couldn't help it. He was starting to regret this idea of telling each of the children separately. These words weren't getting any easier to say; in fact, they were getting harder. But one look at Ron's confusion forced him to continue. "I've been having headaches, so your mum made me go to St. Mungo's. They – well, Hermione will probably know more about this than we do, but the healer said it's what the muggles call a tumor. It – well, she said I only have a few months."

Now, Ron was no longer looking confused. In fact, he wasn't looking at either of his parents at all. He was staring down at his plate, and his expression was stony.

Hermione glanced at him quickly; then, knowing he would prefer for no one to look at him, she turned to Arthur and Molly. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Did they say whether or not they could operate?" she asked. Her voice sounded relatively normal, and she was grateful. Ron needed that from her right now.

But their response didn't help. "No, they can't," Arthur said. He didn't say anything else, but he didn't need to. Both he and Molly turned to look at their youngest son.

"Ron?" Molly said tentatively. For a moment, none of them thought he was going to respond. Then, he raised his head. His eyes were expressionless, and he seemed to be looking right through them. Molly felt a chill run down her spine. "Do you – do you understand what we're telling you?" she asked.

Slowly, he nodded. He didn't speak, and after another moment had passed, he got to his feet.

"I've got to be getting home," he mumbled. "Harry won't know where I am."

Without turning to see if Hermione were following him, he raised a hand in farewell to his parents and stepped directly into the fireplace. The silence he left in his wake crackled. Then Molly and Hermione looked at each other.

"I'll go," Hermione said quietly. Molly's eyes were troubled. "Go quickly," she urged. "We're telling Ginny and Harry tomorrow. I don't want them to have to find out some other way."

Hermione nodded, but even as she stepped toward the fireplace, she turned back to Molly and said, "I wouldn't worry about that. You know that was just an excuse. I'm sure Harry is the last person he'd want to see right now."

Molly nodded slowly, but now she was even more worried about Ron. So was Hermione, and she quickly uttered, "Grimmauld Place" as she threw down the powder.

But he was nowhere to be found. Once she realized he wasn't there, she went to Diagon Alley. It wouldn't do to let Harry and Ginny see how concerned she was, and, she had to admit, how very sad too. She knew she was letting her concern for Ron take precedence right now because not to would mean to think about Arthur's news, and – well, she just wasn't prepared to do that yet.

She didn't find him in Diagon Alley either, though. And it was hours later when she'd given up and gone back to the Burrow alone that he finally returned. She was curled in an armchair in the living room; Arthur was asleep, and Molly was supervising her knitting needles when they heard the crack in the garden. Hermione raised her head and looked at Molly, but Molly merely motioned for her to stay put, and she did the same. Moments later, Ron appeared in the doorway.

"Mum?" he said shakily. He was staring at her, and his eyes were very much no longer expressionless.

Molly looked at him carefully before slowly standing up. She opened her arms slightly, and he rushed into them. For a moment, there wasn't a sound in the room, and then Ron mumbled, "I'm sorry for rushing out." His voice was strained, and Molly shushed him, holding him tightly.

Hermione watched this through tear-filled eyes but didn't move until they broke apart, and Ron suddenly noticed her.

His lips were twisted as he fought for control, and he mumbled, "'Mione…"

He didn't need to say anymore. She crossed the room in two long strides, and then he was in her arms, and he couldn't fight any longer.

"I didn't mean – I just can't – it's Dad," he gasped, the unfamiliar tears making his words unintelligible.

"Shhh," Hermione soothed.

It was a long time before Ron managed to pull himself together, but once he did, he found that he couldn't look at either his mother or his girlfriend. They glanced at each other, and Hermione silently got up and went to the kitchen. It was clear that there were things Molly needed to say.

"Ron," she began. He wouldn't look up from his knees, but she knew he was listening. She sighed. "The only person we have left to tell is Ginny. She and Harry are coming to dinner tomorrow, so please don't say anything to either of them until then."

He nodded, still not looking at her. She shook her head in exasperation. "Ronald Weasley, will you please _look at me _when I am speaking to you?"

Slowly, his head came up, and then his mother almost wished it hadn't. His eyes were red, but so were his ears, and he looked very much like he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment. Her eyes softened.

"Everyone else reacted the same way," she suddenly found herself confiding. Ron looked at her skeptically, but she nodded. "Even Charlie," she added. The red started to fade from Ron's neck, but he asked, "And Bill?"

Molly sighed and shook her head. "Well, no. Not here. But you know Bill. I'm sure Fleur's gotten the worst of him."

Ron nodded. He wished he could say the same about Hermione. He wished he hadn't put all of this on his mother when she already had so much to handle. He looked at her, and she saw his apology in his eyes.

"Don't be silly, Ron," she said crisply. "I would rather you not run off, but to feel bad about _feeling bad_? Well, that's just ludicrous."

Now he smiled, albeit weakly.

"Well, thanks Mum," he said. "That makes me feel better."

Molly couldn't help but smile back, and after another moment, Hermione came back in. The three of them sat together in silence for a few minutes until Ron cleared his throat.

"Do we – I mean does Dad know how many months?"

Molly shook her head, but she had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling. None of them said another word; they couldn't. The silence stretched on until Hermione and Ron both glanced at the clock and realized how very late it had gotten. They rose to leave, but Ron turned again to his mother and surprised her by pulling her into a very tight hug.

"We'll be here if you need anything," he said, and Molly suddenly felt a surge of pride for her youngest son. Pulling away from him, she rested her hand on his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered. He stared at her for a moment and then, blinking hard, he turned and stepped quickly into the fireplace. Before Hermione followed him, she, too, hugged Molly.

"We really do want to help," she told her, and her own voice shook. Molly squeezed her tightly as she whispered back, "I know."

And then Hermione was gone too, and Molly was left alone in the living room. She looked around slowly. Alone…


	11. Telling Ginny

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine; this story is.

**A/N: I've gotten so many story alerts and favorites in the last couple of days. While I do appreciate them all so much, please ****review**** as well. That really does mean a lot. ****And now we can move on to the next part ****of the story. Lots more to come, so please stay with me.**

Hermione went back to Grimmauld Place with Ron that night. Neither of them slept very well, but both made sure to leave early the next morning. There was no question that keeping this secret from Harry and Ginny would be impossible, so they didn't give themselves a chance to slip. As a result, neither Harry nor Ginny was any better prepared to deal with what their night at the Burrow would bring when they arrived there for dinner at 6pm.

Arthur was out in his shed when they arrived, trying to gather up the strength for the last time he would have to say this to any of his kids. The thought that there were only harder moments to come kept pushing itself into his mind, and for some reason, tonight, he was finding it very difficult to push it back out again. But, he tried to reason with himself, he just had to push it out for a few more hours. Then he could give in to the panic that, for some inexplicable reason, was suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. He let out a deep breath. He needed to go back into the house. It wasn't fair to leave Molly there alone.

She turned instantly when he walked in the door – like she always did, he realized, suddenly struck again by how much _her_ life would change – but she smiled.

"The kids are in the living room," she said pleasantly. He didn't understand how she could seem so calm now, but he drew on it, tried to absorb some of it so he could just get through this final telling in one piece.

"You're coming with me?" he asked, his voice low, his hand reaching for hers, and she immediately put down her wand and took his hand.

"Always," she said. He caught the slight tremor in the word, but she continued to smile, so he merely turned and led her into the living room.

Harry and Ginny were sitting on the couch, but they leapt to their feet when her parents walked in, and then they were hugging and kissing hello, and Ginny was suffering under mother's too-tight grasp.

"Mum, geroff," she yelped, finally managing to dislodge herself. But then she caught a glimpse of Molly's face, and her stomach turned to ice. Sure, her mother was emotional – who didn't know _that_ – but not for no reason. So the tears in her eyes were there – why?

"Something's wrong," Ginny stated flatly, looking from her mother to her father. Harry turned in surprise from where he'd been shaking Arthur's hand, and he looked at Ginny questioningly.

"Gin?" he asked, ready to make a joke, but then he, too, saw Molly's face and realized – with a jolt of inexplicable fear – that she was right. Something _was_ wrong.

Silently, as if by mutual consent, the four of them found seats. It was a moment before anyone spoke, and then Arthur cleared his throat.

"Let me start by saying that you are only the last to know this because your mother and I decided to tell you kids in chronological order. It was the fairest way we could think of."

Harry could feel Ginny stiffen beside him, and he reached over slowly and took her hand. Now was not the time to argue over the fairness of chronological order (as she'd been in some form or other for her entire life). She squeezed his hand, seeming to understand, and she stayed silent. Arthur continued.

"I had an appointment at St. Mungo's last week. I'd been having headaches, and your mum made me go. It – it turns out that I have what the muggles call a tumor. It's malignant. And they said I only have a few months."

There. He was done. He should have been able to breathe easier. But he couldn't. He just kept staring at Ginny, waiting for what he assumed would be her inevitable outburst. But none came.

Calmly – too calmly – she removed her hand from Harry's and asked the same question her brothers had: "There is no cure?" Arthur shook his head slowly. "And – and did they say how many months?" He shook his head again. Ginny looked at him, her chin up, her eyes surprisingly clear. He looked quickly at Molly, wondering what she was thinking of this – to put it mildly – unexpected response – but his unspoken question caught in his throat. His wife's eyes were full of tears, but – why? And then he realized she wasn't looking at Ginny.

Harry sat with his head in his hands. He couldn't look at Mr. Weasley right now. He just couldn't. Memories were flashing through his mind: Mr. Weasley being so impressed to meet THE Harry Potter—so he could ask him questions about muggles … Mr. Weasley being so worried that he might endanger himself by going after Sirius Black … Mr. Weasley being attacked in the ministry … Mr. Weasley being more of a father to him than any he'd ever known. He swallowed hard. The lump in his throat was painful. And then he realized that the room was silent.

Slowly, he raised his head. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were both watching him now, and the tears in Mrs. Weasley's eyes were threatening to spill over. Harry turned to Ginny, but she was carefully avoiding his gaze – and her mother's, he realized, and he immediately knew she wasn't ready to feel any of this yet. He wished he could make that same decision. But he knew that he only had so much time before the lump in his throat dissolved.

"I'll be right back," he rasped and bolted for the garden. No sooner had he managed to hide himself among the gnome-filled bushes that he found that he couldn't blink back the tears any longer. Burying his face in his hands once again, he tried to muffle the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him. _T__his couldn't be happening_The words kept running through his head but to no avail. He'd faced enough death to know that – above anything else – these things _could_ and _did_ happen – and very often to the very best people. He rubbed his face even as the tears kept coming. It never got any easier.

He was still sitting there five minutes later, trying to control his unsteady breathing, when he became aware of a shadow crossing his path. He wouldn't look up to see who it was. He couldn't. But then the figure knelt, and it was Mrs. Weasley, and he _really_ couldn't look at _her_. The pain in her eyes was unbearable. But she reached for him without a word, and he fell into her embrace, his face pressed into her shoulder, his tears dampening her sleeve. It was some time before he was finally calm enough to pull away, to speak, and his first question, predictably, was "Where's Ginny?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled almost against her will. "She's fine, dear. She's inside talking to her father. I think she's describing her latest Quidditch practice." What she wasn't saying was just as clear. Ginny wouldn't talk any more about this because she wasn't ready to deal with it yet. Harry nodded silently, wishing fervently that he had Ginny's ability to compartmentalize her feelings. He ran his hand across his eyes then and quickly got to his feet, reaching down to pull Mrs. Weasley up as well.

For a moment, the two stood there, brushing themselves off, and then Harry finally brought himself to look at her.

"I – I really am sorry," he said, hating himself for the way his voice wavered even now. But Mrs. Weasley nodded briskly.

"I know you are. And I know that you will be there for Ginny when she can't hide from this any longer, right?"

Harry nodded. Of course he would. He didn't want to admit how afraid he was of how hard that would actually be. The moment when the reality of Fred's death had hit Ginny was still clear in his mind, and even now, two years later, he still felt a chill as he remembered the way the tears had poured from her eyes as she'd buried her face in his shirt, her shaking threatening to overtake both of them. No, this was going to be impossible. That much was clear.

They returned to the living room then, and Mrs. Weasley once again sat beside her husband, clearly willing to pretend that nothing had been amiss. Harry couldn't have been more grateful. He settled in beside Ginny for what he knew would be a long night. He couldn't have known how long it would be. For they had only just returned to Grimmauld Place, had only just managed to avoid Ron and Hermione and gotten into bed, when Ginny mumbled something that Harry missed.

"What did you say?" he asked – and then wished he hadn't. Because she turned over, the tears on her face standing out in stark relief against her many freckles. Her voice suddenly sounded nothing like her own.

"Harry, who will walk me down the aisle at our wedding?"

He stared at her, feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach, and found that he couldn't answer. He pulled her into his arms. They both knew what the answer should be, but with their wedding still a year away – they suddenly knew that it would have to change.

Neither Ginny nor Harry slept that night.


	12. Ron and Ginny

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: ****Well, ****now ****they all know. Let****'s get on with it.**

The next day was Saturday, and it was already 10 am when Harry felt like he couldn't stay in bed a moment longer. Ginny was asleep – finally – he estimated she'd only drifted off at 8 – so he took extra care not to make a sound as he slipped into his clothes and eased the door open.

Once he walked into the kitchen, though, he stopped short. Ron was already there, gloomily pushing his cereal around with a spoon. He looked up when Harry walked in and forced a very unnatural smile.

"Morning, mate," he said. He sounded tired, Harry realized with a pang. For a moment, he watched Ron noisily slurp his milk, but before he could say anything, Ron mumbled, "So what are you and Ginny doing today?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally, dropping into the chair across from his friend. "Dunno. Maybe going over to Diagon Alley. She also mentioned a muggle movie she wants to see since she never gets to go to those when she's off at practice."

Ron nodded. "Sounds good," he said distractedly.

"How about you and Hermione?" Harry asked. He tried not to wince at the false nonchalance in his own voice.

But before Ron could answer, Hermione came bustling into the kitchen. She looked ready for the day, and she had a piece of paper in her hand that clearly contained a list of some sort.

"So I was thinking, Ron, about what we might want to do first. We –" She broke off when she saw Harry and gave him a tired but relieved smile.

"Oh good," she continued as if she hadn't missed a beat. "This'll be easier now with you and Ginny here too."

Ron and Harry both stared at her for a moment.

"_What_ will be easier?" Ron asked, and Harry didn't miss the edge in his voice. Hermione, for some reason, either missed it or chose to ignore it.

"Well, deciding who you want to talk to first. Do you think it would make the most sense to go to Shell Cottage since Bill's known the longest?"

Harry felt as if he were frozen to the spot. He couldn't look at Hermione, and he certainly couldn't look Ron, but that couldn't have mattered less at the moment because Ron suddenly shoved his chair back from the table and charged from the room – bumping hard into a very sleepy, very startled Ginny on his way.

"What on earth…" she started, but he hissed, "Mind your own business!" and continued on his path, taking the steps two at a time until they all heard the resounding slam of a bedroom door.

For a moment, they all just stood there in shocked silence. Then Hermione spoke, and her voice was nothing like it had been just moments earlier.

"I – I didn't mean it in a bad way," she mumbled. She looked plaintively at Harry. "It's just – last night – he – he said he wanted to talk to his brothers, and …" and she couldn't continue. Tears filled her eyes, and she sank into a seat at the table, burying her face in her hands.

Harry looked at Ginny desperately, but he saw immediately that her mind was already upstairs with Ron, so he nodded for her to go, which she did without a second glance behind her. Harry sighed as he looked at Hermione's shaking form. He didn't much want to go over to her right now – if he were being honest with himself, he was a little afraid of how much _her_ tears might affect _him_ – but he knew he'd rather be in his place than in Ginny's – or in Ron's, for that matter. He'd seen the look on Ginny's face as she turned to go up the stairs. She certainly wasn't in the mood for Ron's temper.

But Ron wasn't in the mood for hers either. She'd been hammering on his tightly locked door repeatedly for the better part of five minutes, when he finally shouted, "Oh just come in already, but knock off that bloody KNOCKING!"

The door banged open, and Ginny stood there, breathing heavily, her red hair standing out every which way. It was a remarkably good imitation of Molly Weasley at her angriest, but neither of her children was in any mood to appreciate that now.

"What?!" Ron spat, glowering at his little sister.

"_What_?" she mimicked, advancing into the room, glaring right back at him. He was sitting on his bed, his back to the walls, and he had a book balanced on his knees. She had to resist the urge to snort. "You just shouted at your girlfriend – who is only trying to _help_ you, I might add; you knocked into me without so much as a sorry, and now you're sitting here reading a _book_? Really, Ron – I think _I'm_ the one who should be asking the questions here."

If anything, Ron's eyes grew even colder, and he quickly tucked the object of derision out of sight.

"What do you _want_?" he asked. "I came up here to be alone, in case you missed that."

"Too bad," his sister replied. "You don't _get_ to be alone after the way you just shouted at Hermione. You do know that she's in the kitchen with Harry right now crying her eyes out? And you do know that it's your fault?"

For a brief moment, Ron's eyes filled with anguish, but then he seemed to catch hold of himself.

"Well, she shouldn't have said that," he blustered. He couldn't quite bring himself to look directly at Ginny now, though. She noticed.

"What, exactly, did she say that was so terrible?" she prodded, but her voice wasn't quite as cold, and now she walked into the room, edging the door closed behind her. She still didn't sit, though.

"Bringing up Bill – well, in front of the two of you. She shouldn't have."

He knew it made no sense even as he said it, and he didn't need to look at his sister to know that she knew it too. So he didn't. And now Ginny sat on the edge of his bed without even responding.

For a long time, neither of them looked at the other. Then, Ginny said quietly, "What – what book was it that you were reading, Ron?"

Without a word, he reached behind his pillow and pulled out the book.

_Muggle Tumors and How to Cure Them_… _by Gilderoy Lockhart._

"Oh, Ron…" Ginny whispered. Her heart suddenly felt very heavy in her chest, and she could no longer see the bedspread clearly. She still couldn't bring herself to look at her brother.

And then she heard it – the sound she was all-too familiar with but dreaded nonetheless.

Ron sniffled. "He – he didn't say how many months," he mumbled. The strain in his voice made his words almost unintelligble, but Ginny understood him perfectly.

"He said a few," she whispered. She continued to stare at the diamond pattern beneath her even as it blurred. She swallowed hard but still couldn't bring herself to look up even as she said, "Ron?" and her voice broke.

And then she felt herself being pulled roughly into his arms, and she hugged him just as hard. He threatened to squeeze the air out of her as he choked, "Ginny, I don't know – I don't know how …"

"I know," she somehow managed to say even as she found herself crying again.

It was a long time before he was ready to let go, but when he did, he turned away from her quickly to wipe his eyes. Still not looking at her, he muttered, "Yeah, thanks," and she sighed. She was dismissed.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, but he resolutely opened his book, his eyes on the page, his ears the usual Weasley red.

"I hope you find something in there," she whispered. He nodded but wouldn't look up. They both knew he wouldn't. Then she remembered what she'd heard Hermione say as she'd attempted to walk into the kitchen (what now felt like hours ago.) She cleared her throat. "Shell Cottage later?" A longer pause, and then he nodded again. Ginny let out a small sigh of relief. Bill would make things better. He always did.


	13. Shell Cottage

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

**A/N: Well – this ended up being a much longer chapter than I expected, and I STILL didn't get to the conversation. It will be in the next chapter, obviously. And yes, I suppose now it's very clear just how much I love Ron. Please read and review!**

Charlie rolled over and had to catch himself before he hit the floor. He groaned. There was no doubt that this couch wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep. He glanced toward the bedroom where his brother and sister-in-law slept and then rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, thinking about the rest of his siblings. Percy … well, he'd be sleeping in his old bed at the Burrow right now. Charlie felt something resembling jealousy. But no … he had the option of moving back home, too, and while he wasn't ready to go back to Hogwarts just yet, he just couldn't see himself moving back in with his parents either. It had been too many years since he'd lived under their roof, and even now – scratch that – _especially _now, it would be too hard to do that again. George wasn't doing it either, and Charlie had to give his younger brother a lot more credit for self-preservation than he would have given him just days ago. He'd almost understood his parents' reluctance to tell George this news, but right now, he was almost ashamed of that. If anything, George was probably handling the whole thing better than he and Bill had put together. And now Ron and Ginny knew too…

Charlie sighed. He couldn't imagine how his youngest siblings had taken this news, and – to be honest – he didn't want to. He knew he was being a coward about it, but he didn't care. Ron was apt to fly off the handle at any moment now that he knew, and that was the last thing Charlie was prepared to deal with (even as he privately admitted how hypocritical he was being.) And he didn't even want to _think_ about how Ginny might be handling the situation. There was no argument in the Weasley family that she was the toughest out of all of them, and he wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't broken down at all. What he didn't want to imagine was what it would be like when she couldn't hold it in any longer. He shook himself. No use thinking about that now. He didn't even know when he'd end up seeing them anyway.

He glanced at his watch. 8 am. He might as well get up and make the coffee. He was so grateful to Bill for letting him stay here and not saying anything to their parents that he was trying to help out in small ways. One of those ways was making the coffee in the morning. Fleur was so grateful since the smell, for some reason, seemed to make her queasy. Charlie shook his head as he measured the grinds. How could the smell of coffee make _anyone_ sick? He would never understand women.

Predictably, the coffee had only been dripping for five minutes when Bill emerged from the bedroom. His hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and his eyes were sleepy, but he smiled when he saw his brother in the kitchen.

"I wish Mum could see you now," he joked, and Charlie turned from where he'd been pulling out mugs for the two of them, a half-smile on his face.

"Even if she saw it, she'd never believe it," he said, and Bill had to acknowledge the truth of that. For a moment, the brothers sat in silence, and then Charlie got up to pour the coffee.

"Fleur's still asleep?" he asked, and his older brother nodded.

"She seems more tired than usual these days," Bill mused. "I feel like – maybe the strain of Dad…" but he trailed off as Charlie looked away. They hadn't talked about the diagnosis since they'd gone to the Burrow to talk to Percy and had also ended up finding George. The excuse, of course, had been that George knew, so there was nothing else they needed to say.

But now Bill realized – there was more to say.

"Ron and Ginny – they know," he said, his voice low. "I have to – I have to make sure they're ok."

Charlie tried not to sigh. Of course Bill would need to make sure they were ok. Charlie would've been fine not seeing them until the chance happened to arise, but Bill was always looking out for all of them – even though it sometimes seemed to Charlie – and to Fleur, too, he was sure – that he was hardly managing to look out for himself. But nothing would change him, and – Charlie had to admit – he hoped nothing would. As much as he wished Bill wouldn't take the weight of the world onto his shoulders, he didn't exactly mind having his brother always looking out for him.

A sigh escaped. He couldn't help it. But he tried to nod encouragingly.

"So when were you planning on talking to them?" he asked, sipping from his mug.

Bill put down his own mug and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well, _you_ showed up right after you heard the news. How many galleons do you want to bet that they show up today?"

Charlie shook his head. "Not betting. You're probably right." He sighed again but forced himself to say what he very much didn't want to. "If – if you want me to, I'll go into Diagon Alley to get George, and we can stop by the Burrow to get Percy. Maybe – maybe it'd better if we were all here."

Bill thought about this for a moment and then nodded. "Good idea – if you don't mind. Maybe it would be better for all of us to come up with some kind of plan."

There was silence as Charlie made every effort to ignore what this plan could involve. "So I'll go," he went on smoothly almost as if there'd been no interruption, and Bill glanced at him warily. He knew what Charlie was doing, but he also knew that he didn't have the time to deal with it now. He resolved to do so later.

They quickly finished their coffee, and then Charlie showered first so he could go get their brothers. Once he was gone, Bill went back into the bedroom where Fleur was just beginning to wake. He stretched out beside her on the bed and kissed her nose. She started to smile but then noticed the lines of worry between his eyes, and her own brow furrowed in concern.

"What ees eet?" she asked. He quickly outlined the plan for the day, and she nodded even as she stretched to her full length.

"Okay. Would you like me to prepare ze lunch for everyone?"

He shook his head quickly. "You don't need to go to any trouble." Almost under his breath, he added, "I doubt anyone's going to have much of an appetite anyway."

They lay there for a moment in silence, side by side, and then they each got out of bed. Fleur hastened to get ready before any of her brothers-in-law arrived, and Bill picked up in the living room, removing the sheets that had been making the couch into Charlie's temporary bed. It was only 30 minutes later when he heard the first crack in the garden, but when he looked outside, expecting to see Charlie with Percy and/or George, he was surprised to find none of them. Instead, Ron stood there with Hermione, and he looked very disgruntled. Bill sighed. This was going to be a long day. But he forced a smile on his face and walked out to greet them.

"Hey you two," he called, and they both turned to him. Hermione smiled.

"Hi Bill. Sorry to surprise you like this. I hope we're not putting you out?"

He shook his head quickly, but even as he answered her, he glanced at Ron, who was now studying the cottage as if he hadn't seen it in months. (It had been two weeks.)

"Uh, Hermione, why don't you go on in? I think Fleur might need some help with the tea – she still isn't sure she's making it the proper _British_ way."

Hermione looked like she was about to make some sort of smart answer – until she glanced at Ron and quickly realized what Bill was doing.

"Oh – oh yeah. Ok. I'll go help."

Without another word, she disappeared inside the cottage. Bill glanced once more at Ron, who was staring intently now at the side of the house, and then he took a seat on the low wall that surrounded the perimeter of the garden. He waited. With Ron, he'd learned, he had to wait. (The only person who didn't have to wait with any of them was Ginny, but she was different.)

For about five minutes, neither of them spoke. And then Ron said, "I never thought I'd be as scared as I was when we brought her here that night from Malfoy Manor, Bill."

It wasn't what Bill expected, and he turned to look at Ron in surprise. But Ron still wasn't looking at him. He was still staring at the wall. Bill continued to wait.

"But – but when Mum and Dad told us," Ron continued, and now his voice started shaking, "I was so scared. I was as scared as I was when Hermione was hurt. I – I never thought I'd be that scared again. I don't know – I don't know how to …" He stopped speaking, but this time, Bill knew he had nothing more to wait for. Ron was clearly unable to say anything else.

Slowly, Bill rose from his place on the wall and walked over to his youngest brother. Ron was still staring at the wall, but Bill very much doubted he was seeing any part of it.

"Ron," he said, and even though he didn't turn to him, he knew he was listening. He kept his voice very gentle. "Ron, none of us knows how to do this. But we're going to do it together. I promise – _promise_ – that you will not have to do _any_ of this alone."

Ron nodded. He continued to stare straight ahead, but he was starting to shake, and Bill slowly put his arm around his shoulders. And it was only because it was Bill and it was only because he thought of Bill as the only one of his brothers who would never consider him weak that he found himself turning to hide his face in his shoulder as he couldn't hold back any longer.

They were still standing there like that when they heard another crack. Ron froze and then bolted for the cottage without turning back. Bill sighed and smiled weakly at Charlie, Percy, and George.

"Well," he said with false cheer. "Ron's here. Come on in."

By the time they got inside, Ron was sitting on the couch trying to look as if nothing had just happened, and Hermione and Fleur were murmuring in the kitchen. Bill immediately went to see if Fleur needed anything, and Charlie, Percy, and George each took one look at Ron and knew immediately what had just happened. And without discussing it, they made a quick, unanimous decision to leave him alone.

Ginny and Harry showed up only moments later. They were standing in the doorway, and for a moment, all of the Weasleys simply stared at each other. And then Fleur looked around at her husband and brothers-in-law and saw what needed to be done.

"Ginny, I am so sorry," she murmured as she hurried out of the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law who stood for a moment, frozen in shock, and then, without quite knowing how or why it happened, tears started streaming down her face. She buried her face in Fleur's shoulder, and it was only moments later when she felt rougher hands patting her on the back. Slowly, she raised her head.

All of them stood around her, including Ron, and they all looked just as miserable as she felt.

"Come on, Gin," George said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "Let's sit down, ok? I think – I think we all need to talk."

Sniffling, she nodded. Pulling away from Fleur, she rubbed her hands over her face.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, but Fleur merely put an arm around her and led her to the couch. They all gathered around the two women, and George sat beside Ginny, who suddenly reached over and took his hand. He swallowed hard. This was not going to be an easy conversation.


	14. The Conversation

A/N: Well, this one took an obscenely long time to get right. It sets up a lot for future chapters, too. I hope you like it. Please read and review!

For a moment, nobody spoke. They just sat there as Ginny struggled to stop sniffling and bring her breathing back under control. George still held her hand tightly while Fleur sat on her other side. Bill perched on the arm of the couch next to Fleur, and Charlie sat on the floor at his feet. Percy and Ron sat side by side on the rug, facing Ginny and George. That left Harry and Hermione standing beside the couch. They moved even closer together and closer still to the wall. For the first time, they were outsiders, and neither had to say it for the other to understand that they were feeling very much the same way.

Bill, predictably, broke the silence.

"Well, obviously, we all got the news from Mum and Dad. I'm assuming that they told each of us the same thing, right?"

George rolled his eyes. "Well, why don't you tell us what they told you, and then we'll know?" The irritation was evident in his voice, but Bill looked at the tense set of his shoulders and the tight grip he had on Ginny's hand and answered him calmly.

"Ok. They told us that Dad had an appointment at St. Mungo's last week and that he'd been having headaches. Apparently, the headaches were a symptom of a tumor, and there's nothing they can do for Dad. They said – well, they said he has a few months." His voice had gotten quieter as he'd been speaking, and Fleur leaned her head against him.

"Yeah, that's what he said," George finally mumbled. The irritation was gone now, but all of his siblings heard the shiver of fear as he spoke, and they seemed to draw even more closely together.

When no one else volunteered any more information, Bill sighed. "Well, we should come up with some sort of plan to help them out, shouldn't we? Because – because Mum's going to need our help, I think."

They couldn't look at each other now, and Hermione, watching them, was forcefully reminded of the days at the Burrow that had followed the Battle of Hogwarts, the days leading up to Fred's funeral. None of them had really spoken to each other then either. They had sat around the living room in much the way they were sitting together now, but back then, someone would generally burst into tears at the drop of a hat and then flee the room. Hermione looked around and sighed. At least that hadn't happened – yet.

Percy cleared his throat. "Well, I already told Mum and Dad, so I may as well tell the rest of you. I'm – well, I'm moving back home for as long as they'll have me." He stared at his knees as he spoke, but then he looked up almost challengingly as if he were waiting to hear from George or someone else about how stupid of an idea that was. The criticism never came. Instead, George cleared his throat and said, "Good idea, Perce. I'm sure they appreciated it."

Percy looked back down again quickly, nodding. He was holding himself together tightly, but his struggle was clear to all of them, and Bill quickly moved on to the next topic.

"Now, here's another thing," he said, and his siblings all heard the change in his tone, and they all looked up from their various contemplations of the carpet, the door and the windows. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I think we need to make every effort to stay as calm as possible while we're with them. That means no tantrums, no demands, no requests, no tears. We don't want to upset Dad any more than he must already be."

His siblings suddenly found it hard to look at him. Percy, George, Ron, Charlie – all of their ears were red, and they were all staring at the floor even as they mumbled their agreement. Bill sighed.

"Listen," he said gently, "none of us could have been expected to take this news well, ok? I'm not saying anybody did anything wrong. I'm just saying that going forward, we should make every effort to be as upbeat as possible. That's what Dad needs from us right now. Mum, too."

Now the silence seemed slightly more comfortable, and Bill shifted in his perch on the arm of couch. He looked around then, pausing before the next thing he had to say.

"Also, Dad has an appointment at St. Mungo's next week. One of us should probably volunteer to go with them, right?" Everyone nodded, but Ron flushed. Bill looked at him curiously for a moment, and then Ron said stiffly, without raising his head, "I – I can do that."

"Ok," Bill said quietly. Fleur put her hand on his shoulder, and he reached up and squeezed it as he said, "I'm monopolizing this conversation. Sorry. Any of you have anything else you think we should do?"

For a few minutes, it seemed like no one was going to say anything, but then Charlie, surprisingly, cleared his throat, and they all turned to him. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he forced himself to look around before finally settling his gaze on Bill as he began to speak.

"We already agreed that we should each stop by the Burrow once a week. Why don't we set up a schedule of some kind so that we don't overlap, and they get to see at least one of us everyday? I mean with seven of us…" He trailed off. The color drained from his face, and he felt like he was choking. He glanced around desperately, but even Bill had looked away. And then, before any of them realized what was happening, the door was banging shut. Charlie was gone.

A moment later, before any of them had a chance to say a word, the door was banging shut again, this time behind Bill. There was absolute silence, and then George's voice shook as he said, "He – he forgot? How – how could he forget?"

Ginny was still holding his hand, and she'd been staring into her lap, but now she looked up. She had stopped crying long ago, but she suddenly seemed to realize that her brother might need her. And one look at his white face assured her that he very much did.

He seemed to realize that she was watching him, and he turned to her. "He forgot?" he repeated. Ginny's stomach started to hurt. She hadn't seen George look this pale or scared in two years now.

She edged closer to him on the couch. "I – I think this whole thing with Dad has thrown us all off, George," she said slowly, trying to keep her voice calm and quiet. "I think – I don't think Charlie was thinking about what he was saying. He didn't forget. You know he didn't forget."

George nodded, but he was staring at the door and looking very much like he might be the next to run. Ginny knew she couldn't let that happen. "George?" she asked, her voice small, and he finally stopped looking at the door and turned to her. He was blinking very fast, and Ginny swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

"George?" she whispered again, but he shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "Bill – Bill said we shouldn't and – and I can't –"

Now Ginny shook her head. "He didn't mean when it was just us," she said, fighting to keep her own voice steady. George pulled his hand out of her grasp then and covered his face. But even though he hid the tears, he couldn't hide the sound of the sobs that he could no longer control, and Ginny moved all the way over then, putting her arms around her brother.

"It's ok, George,"she tried to whisper. "We're going – we're going to be ok."

But he shook his head. After a moment, he removed his hands, and now he looked around at the rest of his siblings. None of them had looked up when he'd started crying, and he could easily see why. Ron had drawn his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, his head down. Percy was watching him in concern but was wisely keeping his distance. Fleur had put her own head in her hands and was sitting there motionless. And Harry and Hermione were staring at each other, seemingly communicating wordlessly as they often did. George turned back to Ginny, his eyes watering again.

"How can we be ok?" He gestured to the rest of them and added, "and we don't even know where Bill and Charlie are."

Ginny's heart sank. He was right. And she hadn't thought things could get any harder.


	15. The Outcome

**A/N: Well, this ended up ****much ****longer than I expected it to be. Please read and review! **

Bill kept running. For some reason, Charlie hadn't disapparated – he was probably, even in this frame of mind, smart enough to know how very much in danger he'd be of splinching himself – but Bill was only just managing to keep him in sight. He was starting to get a stitch in his side as he panted after his brother, and he quickly resolved to get more exercise. This was ridiculous.

It was a minute or two before he realized that Charlie had stopped running. He pulled himself up short, not wanting to go hurtling into his younger brother before he had a chance to gauge his mood. One quick look at Charlie's face made him glad he'd stopped.

Charlie's face was as white as George's had been when Bill had left the house, and his eyes were distressed. He was now pacing in circles and mumbling to himself, and Bill was wary of getting any closer. He thought Charlie probably knew he was there, but it was also pretty clear that there was no talking to him at the moment. Bill settled himself on the ground in plain sight. Charlie would come over to him when he was ready.

It took a long time for him to be ready, and Bill had to concentrate very hard on trying not to remember why they were out here now instead of back at the Cottage with the rest of their siblings. He was still shocked by Charlie's slip. It had been two years – two years of adjusting to being six instead of seven. So why now – why, when things had just gotten irrevocably harder – had Charlie gone and done something like _this_? It wasn't like him at all.

Suddenly, Bill became aware that Charlie had sat down abruptly a few feet away and had buried his face in his hands. He watched him for another moment before deciding that this was the time to go to him. He pushed himself to his feet and walked over quietly. For a moment, he stood over Charlie, and then he sat beside him. When Charlie didn't look up or make any move to speak, Bill said quietly, "it was a mistake."

Charlie didn't move his hands or respond. Bill waited another moment and said, "Honestly, Charlie. It's ok. You're not around as much as the rest of us are. Of course it's not something you'd be used to. It's not something _any_ of us are _used_ to. It's just something we've had to say a little more than you have."

When Charlie still didn't make a sound, Bill sighed. There was nothing more for him to say, so he stopped talking. And a few minutes later, Charlie said, his voice muffled, "Did you – did you see what I did to George? Did – did you see his face?"

Now Bill turned to look at him, but Charlie was still hiding his face, so Bill spoke to his hands, his voice gentle. "You didn't do anything to George, Charlie. You made a mistake, and when he gets a minute to think about it, he'll understand that, too. I won't let you beat yourself up over this. It's done. We have other things to worry about."

Slowly, Charlie removed his hands to look at Bill. He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat.

"But that's the problem," he said gruffly. "We have other HUGE things to worry about, and the last thing any of us needed was for somebody to say something that stupid. I don't know – I don't know how I'm going to face all of them again."

Bill stared at him so incredulously that Charlie was forced to look away. But that didn't stop Bill from saying, "Are you serious? Charlie, this is our_ family_. There's never been a question about _facing anybody_ before, and just because you said – what you did – is no reason to start thinking that way now."

Now Charlie turned back, and Bill was even more shocked to see that his eyes had welled up as much as he tried to blink the tears away.

"Charlie," he started to say, reaching out to put his hand on his brother's shoulder, but Charlie shrugged him off.

"No, Bill," he said, his voice strained. "I – I saw your face after I said that. _You_ couldn't even look at me. _How_ can you say that this is going to be ok if _you_ couldn't even look at me? How?"

Bill took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Because we love each other," he said simply, looking directly into Charlie's eyes. "Because we know that you said seven because you miss Fred and wish we _were_ still seven. Because we want that too, and we would never be mad at you for saying what we all wish were still true. That's how, Charlie. And – and maybe I didn't look at you because I was so surprised, but look at me now. I followed you, didn't I? I think – I think you just have to forgive yourself."

Charlie nodded jerkily, but he turned away in the desperate but futile hope that Bill wouldn't hear his uneven breathing. He had no such luck. It was only moments later when he felt Bill's arms go around him, and that's when he gave up. Burying his face in his older brother's thin t-shirt, he started crying harder than he had in the time since he'd heard the terrible news.

Bill held on tightly until Charlie was finally taking gasping breaths, and then he slowly loosened his grip. When Charlie had pulled away and was wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Bill said quietly, "Are you ready to go back?"

Charlie sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

The brothers pushed themselves to their feet and dusted themselves off although Charlie took considerably more time than was necessary until Bill finally said, "You're spotless. It's time to go."

Charlie nodded mutely. They walked back slowly, both of them lost in their thoughts, and it was when the cottage was in sight that Bill heard Charlie's slight intake of breath. He turned to look at him, but Charlie was now staring resolutely at the ground as they walked and was showing absolutely no sign that he had any intentions of looking up. Bill sighed but led the way back inside.

The conversation had obviously not gone on without them. Everyone was in much the same position in which the oldest two had left them, and Bill felt a pang of remorse when he looked at Fleur and realized that he'd left _her_ in this state of misery. He went to her swiftly and pulled her into his arms, murmuring a soft apology which she accepted immediately. She pulled back to look at him, but he only smiled weakly and quickly looked away. He couldn't handle her scrutiny right now, and he was the first to admit it, not with all of his siblings there and emotions running so high. He needed to be strong, and that wouldn't be possible if he let himself look into her eyes.

Charlie, meanwhile, had frozen in the doorway, and everyone slowly became aware that he and George were staring at one another. George was still sitting on the couch beside Ginny, but it was clear to Charlie that he'd been crying, and he swallowed hard. He'd done this to him; he'd made things this much harder when things were already so hard.

"George," he started, and his voice shook. He sighed but forced himself to continue. "George, I'm so sorry. I didn't forget. I swear. I just – I wish we were still seven so much that sometimes I think we still are."

George stared at Charlie for a moment in silence, and then he let go of Ginny's hand. He stood up and crossed the room slowly. He stood in front of Charlie, and it slowly sunk in then that _Charlie_ had been crying too. For a moment, they stared at one another, and then George threw his arms around his older brother and was squeezing him tightly.

"It's ok," he choked, his words almost incomprehensible. "We'll – we'll always be seven, right?"

"Right," Charlie rasped, his own voice garbled.

It was a long time until either of them was ready to let go. When they finally did, and Charlie joined George and Ginny on the couch, Bill knew they were all ready to bring this conversation to an end.

"Ok, everyone," he said briskly. "Plans are in order. We'll stay in touch with each other and use our Patronuses to figure out who's going to the Burrow which day. And if any of us hears _anything_ from Mum or Dad, we'll share it with everyone else."

They all nodded their agreement, and then one by one, Bill's siblings found their own ways home. When everyone but Charlie had gone, and he too had gone outside to be alone, Fleur turned to Bill.

"Ees 'e ok?" she asked, and he sighed, nodding as he slumped down on the couch, rubbing his face briskly with both hands. Fleur watched him for a moment and then realized belatedly that he wasn't taking his hands away. Without a word, she joined him on the couch and put her arms around him. His arms tightened around her in response, and his breathing was shaky in her ear. "Eet ees going to be ok, my darling," she murmured. He nodded against her but wouldn't – or couldn't – speak.

Fleur found herself blinking back her own tears. It had been a long time since she'd felt so helpless, and she wished, desperately, for something to make Bill happy. She just couldn't imagine what that might be.

* * *

_A/N: To take a page out of Cassandra's book (ok, story ;)): here's my own reply to my own anonymous reviewer:_

_oreo07: Thanks so much. Sorry this hit home on so many levels, but I'm glad you decided to read it. I hope you continue! _


	16. The Outsiders

**A/N: Oddly, this is the chapter that made me saddest to write – and it's not even very Weasley centric. Please read and REVIEW! Thanks!**

The first of the Weasley kids to visit the Burrow the very next day – Sunday afternoon – was George. Ron had discovered that his father's next appointment at St. Mungo's was on Monday, and so _he_ spent all of Sunday holed up in his bedroom with the first – and only – Gilderoy Lockhart book he'd ever actually taken the time to read. Hermione tried to sit with him, but he hardly looked up from the book, and he responded to all of her questions with one-word answers. She tried not to take it personally or to point out that she had other books – _better_ books – for him to read since he seemed to be so engrossed in this one, and after a frustrating hour of sitting in silence, she left the room. He never even looked up.

When she walked into the living room, she found Harry sitting and staring glumly into the fireplace. Ginny wasn't there, and when Harry looked up and saw the question in Hermione's eyes, he shrugged. "She said she needed to go to shopping," he said by way of explanation. Hermione nodded and took a seat across from Harry's. She, too, stared into the flames for a moment before finally shifting to look at Harry.

There was no way he couldn't feel Hermione's eyes on him, but he refused to look at her. Finally, she forced herself to speak.

"Harry," she said, and she was using her no-nonsense tone that he knew all-too well from their years at Hogwarts. But he didn't care. He still wouldn't look at her.

She sighed with exasperation but decided to continue anyway. He might be able to avoid her eyes, but he couldn't avoid the sound of her voice.

"Harry, there _has_ to be something we can do to help," she said. Her voice was low but insistent, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the fire. She forged ahead. "Ron's up in his room right now reading a Gilderoy Lockhart book. I know there have been breakthroughs in muggle science, but I can't even bring up those books to him because he's _not talking to me_." She let out an explosive sigh, but it couldn't have been clearer to Harry that she wasn't really annoyed. She was worried, and she was upset, and she was grasping at straws.

He still wouldn't look at her, but he said, "Just show him the books if you want to. But you know he 's not going to look at them."

"Why?" Hermione demanded, and Harry could suddenly hear the strain in her voice. Reluctantly, he turned to her.

"Because he knows that these books can't help, Hermione. That's why he's reading the Lockhart junk. He's just doing anything can, so he doesn't have to think about everything that's going on right now. You know this."

There was a moment while Hermione stared at him slightly openmouthed, and then she turned away. For a moment, Harry watched her stare into the fire, and then she nodded slightly.

"You're right," she said faintly. "And – and I know the muggle books probably won't help either. It's just – there's nothing we can do to help them, Harry, is there? It's like – it's like Fred all over again, but this time, we have to sit and wait for it to happen."

Harry turned back to the fire, and for a moment, Hermione thought he wasn't going to say anything at all. Then he cleared his throat and said hoarsely, "And—and it's Mr. Weasley, Hermione."

Now she glanced at him quickly. His jaw was clenched, but there was a muscle twitching in it, and she swallowed hard.

"I know," she whispered as she slowly turned back to the flames.

For what felt like a very long time, the two sat in a rigid silence, and then Harry said, his voice tight, "He's – he's a special dad, isn't he, Hermione? I mean I never had one, but Arthur Weasley – he's special, right?"

Hermione's eyes burned with tears, but she blinked them back and continued staring straight ahead. If she'd learned anything from her long friendship with Harry, it was that this would not be the right time to look at him. She knew she was lucky that he was even talking.

"Yes," she whispered. "He's a very special dad. He loves his kids very much."

Harry nodded. She saw it out of the corner of her eye, and she let out a deep breath and waited. She knew he had more to say. She was right.

"Do you think – do you think he knows that we love him too? That – that we'll also miss him?" His voice was shaking, and she gripped the armrests tightly.

"He knows," she said, her voice breaking. "Of course he knows, Harry."

They didn't look at one another, but each could hear the strain in the other's breathing. They sat there, staring into the fire, and then Harry said, his voice very low, "Hermione, I can't – I don't know how to lose another – another father. And – and he's not even mine. Like – at Bill's. They're – they're seven. They are. We're not part of this family. I don't know – am I even allowed to be this sad?"

She couldn't just sit there anymore. She turned to look at Harry, and the tears in his voice were also in his eyes. He looked at her and bit his lip as one slid down his cheek, quickly followed by another. He looked away, but now she went to him, sat on the arm of his chair, and put her arms around him.

"Of course you're allowed to be this sad, Harry," she whispered into his shoulder as he buried his face in her hair. She felt him shaking with sobs, and she held on tightly. "I'm sad too," she said, her voice wavering. "I know it's different for me than it is for you because I have a dad, but you know I love Mr. Weasley, too. And Harry – you know that they love us. It was hard yesterday because they'll always consult each other first, but I have to believe that they want us there. If – if they didn't, we wouldn't have been there in the first place. Ron and Ginny – they need us. I know they do."

Harry nodded, but he didn't let go of her. For a long time, the two sat in the one chair, holding onto each other. They were still sitting there like that when Ron walked into the room – and stopped short.

"Harry? Hermione?" he asked uncertainly, and Hermione let go of Harry immediately, turning to face her boyfriend. Harry turned away just as quickly, swiping a hand across his eyes.

"Did you find anything in your book?" she asked, and he shook his head, still watching Harry.

"Harry?" he asked, the confusion evident in his voice. "Are – are you ok?"

The back of Harry's neck was flushed, but he slowly turned around. He kept his face down, but he nodded and said gruffly, "I'm ok."

Ron looked at him skeptically, but Harry bolted from the room then, almost knocking Ron over as he went. Ron stared at Hermione.

"For the love of Godric, Hermione – what on earth just happened in here?"

She shook her head but took his hand and led him to the chair she'd vacated. Once she'd gently pushed him into it, she sat on his lap. It was the only way she could guarantee that he wouldn't run out too.

"We were – well, we were talking about dad, Ron. Harry's very upset about everything. I don't think he knows how to lose another person who's always treated him like a son."

Ron looked at her for a moment, and then he nodded, sighing heavily. "I'd almost forgotten this would be hard for Harry too," he muttered. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head.

"Well, he'll have a lot of company," he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. Hermione looked at him in surprise, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. She tried not to sigh, herself.

"He – he doesn't feel that way, exactly," she said slowly, and now Ron looked at her in surprise.

"Why wouldn't he feel that way? He knows he's a part of this family."

Hermione smiled at Ron now, but her eyes were sad. "I just – don't think it felt that way yesterday. For either of us. Oh, it's nobody's fault," she hastened to add as Ron looked almost as though he were getting angry. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "It's just – well, obviously, you're his kids. It was hard being there yesterday since we aren't. We feel horrible, Ron. We love him, and we're sad, and we're scared just like you are. But it _isn't_ just like you are because he's _not_ our dad, and I think we're both just afraid of stepping on anyone's toes."

Even though her hands were still on his shoulders, Ron had looked away, and she felt his shoulders trembling under her hands. She stayed very still and very quiet until he took a few deep breaths and looked back at her. His eyes were very blue and very wet, but his expression was unreadable. And then he pulled her into his arms.

"You're supposed to be with me," he whispered into her hair. "No one will ever think otherwise."

Hermione felt herself go weak with relief. For someone who she'd once thought had the emotional range of a teaspoon, every now and then, he knew the right words. She just hoped Ginny would say them to Harry soon, too. He definitely needed to hear them from her.


	17. Reconciliation

**A/N: Ok, I lied. I had to give them some closure here. This did not turn out at all like I expected it to. Please read and REVIEW! Thanks!**

Ginny made up her mind as she finished her shopping. She wanted to spend her last night before returning to the Harpies at the Burrow. She would only return to Grimmauld Place to say goodbye to Harry, Ron and Hermione, and then she'd be off to her parents. For a moment, she actually felt faint. This whole thing was going to be impossible – saying goodbye to Harry tonight and then to her parents in the morning – but then she shook her head. It didn't matter. This was what she had to do.

She apparated directly into the entryway of 12 Grimmauld Place and walked determinedly toward the stairs. As she passed the living room, she saw her brother sitting with Hermione on his lap, but one quick glance told her this was not the time to stop. Ron did not look at all like he would appreciate the interruption, and she wasn't particularly in the right frame of mind for _that_ conversation at the moment.

She found herself in front of Harry's closed door, and she took a deep breath before twisting the knob. She walked in – and stopped short. Harry was lying face down on his bed. Beside him was a double picture frame she'd gotten him for his last birthday. On one side was his favorite picture of his parents, and the other had a picture of the entire Weasley family. It was one of his most favorite possessions, but now – she found herself picking it up as she sat beside him, and she wondered how he was still managing to look at it everyday. Even as she studied it for just a brief moment, she felt a stab of pain and put it down. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively. He still hadn't turned over even though she knew full well that he was aware of her presence. After a moment, he turned, but he faced the wall – not Ginny.

She stared at the back of his head before it sank in. He was avoiding looking at her, and she couldn't imagine why.

"Harry?" she asked again. She kept her voice gentle, and as she watched him, he nodded slightly as if encouraging her to talk. She sighed. If he were going to act this way, then maybe she didn't owe him any explanations.

"I'm going to stay at my parents' house tonight," she said quickly. "I have to go back for practice tomorrow, so I want to see them before I leave. I came back here to say goodbye to you."

Harry was motionless, and Ginny moved closer to him.

"Harry? You ok?"

And very slowly, he turned over to look at her. One look into his eyes told her everything she needed to know about his afternoon, but the expression on his face made one other thing very clear – he wasn't just sad. He was hurt.

"You're – you're leaving? If I come with you, I can least see you until you go?"

But Ginny shook her head quickly, and now Harry got off the bed and stalked over to the window even as she tried to explain.

"Harry, it's just – I need to be with my parents now. It has nothing to do with you."

She didn't know what else to say, but she also knew from the way he refused to turn around that she'd just said the absolute wrong thing.

"Harry…" she tried helplessly, but his voice was cold when he said, "Just go, Ginny. It has nothing to do with me. I'll see you around, I guess."

She wanted to leave. She didn't have the energy for this conversation now, but she also didn't have the energy to be angry at Harry. Slowly, she crossed the room to where he stood with his back turned resolutely to her. She put her hand on his shoulder, and she felt him stiffen, but she refused to move away.

"I'm sorry," she forced herself to say. He didn't move or answer her. She squeezed his shoulder. "I didn't mean that I didn't want you there with me. It's just – it's so hard to know what Mum and Dad want these days. I don't want to overwhelm them or anything."

Harry let out a deep breath, and because she was still touching him, Ginny could feel how shaky his breathing actually was.

"You used to need me more," he said, his voice low, "What happened to that?"

Ginny stared at the back of his head. "Harry," she said softly, "I do need you. I'm sorry I said that this has nothing to do with you. That wasn't fair."

He sighed again, and she tightened her grip on his shoulder. "I know you're upset about Dad, too," she continued, and she hated the way her voice wavered. She stopped talking, but Harry finally turned around.

He stared at her, and her eyes welled up. "I'm – I'm scared to go back to practice," she found herself whispering. She hadn't said this to anyone let alone allowed herself to think it, but Harry was nodding now. She shook her head and angrily brushed away the tears.

"I don't want to do this," she said. Harry said nothing, and she turned away and walked over to the bed, sitting down and staring into her lap. Harry stood and watched her, and she knew without looking up that he could see the tears that were streaming down her face. Finally, she gave in and looked at hm.

"What if – what if something happens when I'm away, Harry? I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I weren't here when Dad…" she trailed off. She couldn't say it. She wouldn't say it. But he knew the words she'd swallowed, and now he joined her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Gin," he whispered. "I know I wasn't being fair before. I just – don't want you to leave. I – I'm worried about your dad too, and I know I can go with Ron and Hermione when they see your parents, but I don't want to intrude on their time together, and without you, it would be weird for me. I just – I don't know how to do this."

Harry tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but it was painful, and then Ginny pulled away to look at him. He shook his head and turned away from her silently, but she threw her arms around his waist.

"Come with me now," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" he asked, clearing his throat, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible. She nodded.

"I am. I was wrong before."

Ginny didn't wait for a response. She picked up her wand and summoned all of her belongings that were strewn around the room, sending them flying haphazardly into her duffel bag. Once she was packed, she and Harry made their way downstairs. Ron and Hermione were still sitting together in the living room, but they walked in anyway. Hermione looked up at them – Ron did not – and she tried to smile, but it fell flat. Ginny cleared her throat.

"I came to say goodbye to the two of you. Harry's coming with me to the Burrow now, but I leave to go back to practice in the morning."

Hermione got off Ron's lap and opened her arms to hug her friend. Once they let go, she turned her gaze on Harry. He was staring at his feet, but he looked up when he felt his friend's eyes on him, and then he realized that Hermione was trying very hard to telepathically communicate a very simple message: let's let Ron and Ginny say goodbye alone. He nodded, and without a spoken word passing between them, they stepped out into the hall.

Ron still hadn't looked at his sister, but now she walked in front of him to end his apparent fascination with the fireplace.

"Ron, you'll let me know what they say at St. Mungo's tomorrow, right?" she asked. For a moment, she didn't think he was going to respond at all, but then he nodded reluctantly.

"Ok, then," she said briskly. For another moment, she contemplated her older brother.

"I'm just an owl away, you know," she suddenly added, her voice surprisingly gentle. And it was this unexpected shift that caused Ron to look at her.

"I know," he said hoarsely. His eyes were pained, but he tried to smile. "Thanks."

For a moment, she hesitated, and then she stepped forward and put her arms around him. "I'll come home whenever anyone needs me," she muttered in his ear. "Just – just make sure I know if I should?"

He nodded against her shoulder, and then she let go of him. They looked at one another for another moment before Ginny said, "Ok, well… I'm off. I'll see you soon."

He nodded again. He didn't fully trust himself to speak. And when Hermione came back in, she found him sitting with his head in his hands.

"Ron?" she asked, and it was the fear and confusion in her voice that actually forced him to lift his head. His eyes were full of despair when he said, "I – I'm scared, Hermione. I – I don't want to go to St. Mungo's tomorrow."

She resumed her seat on his lap and leaned her head against his. "I know you don't," she said softly. "But I'll be there with you. You'll never have to do any of this alone."

He nodded, but as much as they both knew that what she said was true – they also knew that there was every reason to be afraid.


	18. Visit to St Mungo's

**A/N: Well, this one should answer some questions. It also, of course, raises some more, but what else would you expect? Please read and review! I really appreciate it.**

Arthur's appointment with the healer wasn't until 11am on Monday morning. Ron had arranged with George that he wouldn't be at the shop until after it was over, but it wasn't until 8:00 that morning, when he'd been lying awake and staring at the ceiling for a full 45 minutes, that he realized that he'd never officially asked Hermione if she were also planning on going with them. And even the _possibility_ that she might not made his stomach turn to ice. He couldn't do this without her. He knew that much.

When she opened her eyes at 8:15, she was startled to find him lying beside her with his eyes wide open. She raised herself up on her elbow and studied him.

"Ron?" she asked, her voice soft. He nodded slightly but continued to stare upwards. For a moment, neither of them said anything else, and then he said, "I – I need to ask you a question." His voice was flat, emotionless, but Hermione heard a quiver just under the surface that she could tell he was trying to conceal.

"Sure," she said, shifting to make herself more comfortable. When she stopped moving, he said, "I told my parents I'd meet them at the hospital at 10:45."

"Ok," she said slowly, waiting for him to continue. He was still staring at the ceiling, but she could sense his tension as he lay next to her. Finally he said, "Do you think you might be able to come with us?" The words came out in a rush, and even though he wasn't looking at her, his ears were turning red. Hermione swallowed hard. She knew that if Ron were asking, it meant he needed her there, and that meant she needed to go.

"Of course I can go," she said quietly. He glanced at her quickly, and when she nodded, his entire body seemed to relax. But only for a moment. Suddenly, he was out of bed. His back was to her as he pulled out the clothes he would wear for the day, but he mumbled, "And – and we need to leave a little early. I want to be there at 10:30."

Now she stared at the back of his neck in confusion. "But I thought you said we were meeting your parents at 10:45?"

His hands stilled, but he didn't turn around. He just said, "We are. I just – I need to get there a little earlier."

Hermione could see that there was no use in asking any more questions, so she merely said, "Ok. I'll need to floo over to the ministry to let them know I won't be in until later."

By the time they were both ready, it was 10am, and they were sitting in the kitchen in an increasingly uncomfortable silence. Hermione tactfully ignored Ron's obvious pallor as the minutes ticked by, but by 10:25, he'd started muttering to himself. She couldn't make out a single word he was saying, but she knew it was time to go.

She held out a hand to him where he sat at the table, pushing the food around his plate, and he dropped his fork with a clatter.

"Yes, let's go," he said abruptly as if it had been idea in the first place and there were nothing unusual about his leaving behind an entirely uneaten breakfast.

Arthur and Molly were not there yet when Ron and Hermione arrived at St. Mungo's, which was why Hermione was completely surprised when Ron obviously knew where he was going. But he didn't even look to see if she were following him as he made his way to the 5th floor and then went directly to the witch sitting at the reception desk.

His voice was so low as he spoke to her that by the time Hermione reached his side, she had no idea what he'd said, but she was aware of the witch looking at him with a mixture of resignation and pity.

"Just one moment, please, Mr. Weasley," she said, the weariness evident in her voice. "I'll be right back."

Ron nodded and let out an explosive breath as he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away from the desk. He seemed startled to find Hermione standing directly behind him, and then his eyes took on that guilty look that Hermione knew all too well.

"Ronald," she said slowly. "Why are we here early?"

He looked at her for another moment before he was forced to look away. He mumbled something that she didn't quite hear. She stepped closer to him, and now he took her hand again and gripped it.

"I – I need to talk to the healer before Mum and Dad get here," he managed to say, but his voice was tight. She tried to look into his eyes, but he kept his head turned firmly toward the floor. She waited. She knew there was more. She was right.

"I – I need to apologize."

Now Hermione was really confused. "Apologize?" she asked. "What on earth for?"

Ron's ears were scarlet, but he said, "I know you remember how I just kind of left the Burrow after Mum and Dad told us the news. Well… I came here. And I – I kind of yelled a little. And I know it's not their fault, Hermione, so you don't have to tell me that. I was just upset. I thought there should have been more that they could do for Dad. But now that I know they can't, I need to apologize."

Hermione's mouth had fallen open slightly, but before she could respond, the witch who had been helping them was back, and she had a healer with her. Ron squeezed Hermione's hand and swallowed hard as the older woman looked at him steadily, her expression unreadable.

"Can we – can we talk somewhere else?" Ron asked. After a momentary pause, the healer nodded and motioned for them to follow her. They walked through a swinging door and were led to a small, white room just a few doors away. The healer indicated that they should sit, and they did so, Ron still not loosening his grip on Hermione's hand.

For a moment, the three of them sat there in silence. Then Ron said, "I'm sorry. That's what I came here to say. I really am. I – I know it's not your fault that my dad is sick. I just – well, I panicked."

He lapsed into silence and bit his lip. For a moment, Hermione wondered if this woman – Healer Jones was her name, she noticed – were planning on saying anything at all – but then she spoke, and her voice was very gentle.

"Thank you for coming here, Ron," she said. He looked up then, and the compassion in her eyes was overwhelming. He swallowed hard but nodded.

"Please – please don't say anything to my parents?" he asked nervously but relaxed when she agreed immediately.

"Of course not," she reassured him. "I understand why you were so upset that day. Anyone would have been. This is very difficult news to process. Maybe – maybe you might want to think about speaking to someone who could help."

He looked at her curiously, and she elaborated. "Muggles speak to people they call psychologists. We have some witches on staff who perform essentially the same function. It might help you to speak to one of them?"

Now Ron was blushing furiously, and he shook his head. "Thank you," he said shortly. "But I'm ok now."

Healer Jones and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, and then Hermione said, "Ron, we should be getting back out there. Your parents will be here any minute."

He seemed relieved to have an excuse to leave and after a hurried goodbye, the two walked back out to the waiting room. His parents hadn't arrived yet, so they sat in the chairs closest to the swinging door. After a few moments in which neither of them spoke, Hermione said, "It _is_ something you and your siblings might want to think about, you know. Talking to someone. It might help."

Ron glared at her. "I do not want to talk about this with anyone other than you or my family." He bit off each word, and it was clear that he meant for this to be the end of the conversation. Hermione knew she needed to drop it for now.

It wasn't long before Arthur and Molly walked in the door, and they smiled to see Hermione sitting beside Ron. Their relationship was one of the few reasons why Arthur wasn't as worried about Ron as he otherwise might have been. They joined them, and Hermione said, "Did Ginny get off all right?"

Neither she nor Ron missed the look that passed between his parents. Molly didn't even answer, and Arthur said evasively, "Yes, she left." He didn't say any more, but the lack of an adjective to describe her departure spoke volumes. No one had any response to that, and then Molly said quietly, "Ron, I think it would be a good idea for you and Harry to come for dinner one night this week."

He looked up abruptly, but then he saw the look on his mother's face, and he nodded slowly.

"All right," he said. "I'll check with Harry tonight, and I'll let you know tomorrow."

Hermione only had a brief moment to wonder why she wasn't being included in this invitation because it was then that Healer Jones appeared to usher them into her office, putting an effective end to the conversation.

The moment they were seated in the small, white room, the healer launched into an explanation of Arthur's test results and the severity of his tumor. Much of what she said went directly over Ron's head although one piece of her message came across loud and clear: there was something between three and four months left.

The moment she said those words, Ron felt a buzzing in his ears and did not hear another word. He merely stared out the window, and even his grip on Hermione's hand loosened slightly. He felt completely numb. It wasn't until everyone else was standing around him that he realized the appointment was even over.

Hermione tugged at his hand, and he stood clumsily, not looking into anyone's eyes. Molly's own eyes were red, but she was watching her youngest son with concern. Before she could say a word, however, Arthur spoke.

"Ron, you'll talk to Harry and find out when he's free to come to dinner?"

He'd been watching both his wife and son and knew instinctively that the best thing to do right now – for both of them – was to keep the conversation normal. If Molly spoke – well, he didn't want to imagine the emotional scene that might ensue and – quite frankly – he wasn't up for it. All he wanted at the moment was to return to the Burrow and have some time to himself. Molly glanced at him quickly and must have seen this in his face because she squeezed his hand and merely echoed his request.

"Yes, Ron, check with Harry and let us know?"

Now Ron nodded, but none of them were sure he'd heard what either of his parents had said, and Hermione whispered to Molly, "I'll make sure he does."

Molly tried to smile at Hermione but failed miserably and settled for pulling her into a quick hug.

"It – it needs to be just the two of them. I'll explain it to you another time?" she whispered, and Hermione nodded briefly.

They broke apart, and Molly turned to Ron, embracing him as well, a gesture he returned stiffly. When she released him, Arthur smiled at both of them and then grasped Molly's hand.

"We'll talk to you soon," he said quietly, and then he pulled her out of the hospital after him without waiting for a response.

Hermione turned to Ron, her forehead creased in worry, wondering what he thought of all of this, but he was still staring off into space.

"Ron?" she asked, and he managed to look at her, but it couldn't have been clearer that he wasn't seeing her at all.

"I have to go to the shop," he mumbled. He was still holding her hand, so he pulled her over, kissed her quickly on the cheek and then turned to go. For a moment he paused, and she wondered if he were about to speak, but then he continued walking. His shoulders were hunched as if he were heading directly into a storm. Hermione felt a chill. He was.


	19. Back at WWW

**A/N: I promise the dinner at the Burrow will be... soon? I feel mean, but there are some more things that need to happen before we get there. Soon, though. I promise. This one took FOREVER to get right (because I really do love Ron so very much). Please read and review.**

George was ringing up customers when Ron walked into the shop, and he looked up automatically when the door opened, hoping, as he had been for the past half hour, that it would be his younger brother. But when he took in Ron's numb expression and subsequent inability to concentrate on anything the kids asked him, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He made a conscious effort to stay away from Ron until they closed the shop for lunch.

Once the door swung shut behind the last child, he watched as Ron somehow made his way to the stool behind the counter and sat down. He propped his elbows on the counter, putting his head into his hands. He didn't move or make another sound, but George knew better than to speak to him yet.

Instead, he bustled around the shop, putting things into some semblance of order. After a few minutes, George finally looked in his direction again. Now Ron was staring at the extendable ears, but it couldn't be clearer to George that he wasn't seeing a single one.

Finally, George forced himself to ask the question that he'd been swallowing since Ron had walked through the door an hour earlier.

"So?" he asked, and he winced inwardly at how unintentionally rough his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. "What did the healer say?"

Ron turned to him as if he were waking from a dream. His eyes were still somewhat unfocused, but he said, "Three to four months."

The box of trick wands George was holding fell from his hands and burst open when it hit the floor, but neither of them noticed. They were now staring at each other, and Ron was blinking rapidly. Then he slowly turned away and, after a pause that seemed to last for an eternity, he said, "She said some – some things about – about putting things in – in order."

His voice was hoarse, and he kept his back turned to George, so he didn't see that George had now stooped to pick up the wands with shaking hands. They were still there – Ron with his back to his brother and George, kneeling with the wands at his feet, when the bell over the door jangled, and a familiar voice broke the stillness.

"George, Bill sent me 'ere to see eef … oh…" Fleur's voice trailed off when she noticed Ron. And it was another moment before she registered just what she was walking into. She fought down her momentary urge to go get Bill. But no ... it wouldn't do to have him here now; it would only upset him more, and she knew her brothers-in-law well enough by now to talk to them on her own. If only they would look at her…

She walked further into the store, allowing the door to close behind her. Neither Ron nor George turned to her, but she hadn't really expected them to. For a moment, her eyes flickered between the two before she quickly decided that going to George would undoubtedly be the safer choice right now. Years of knowing Ron and his temper had made her understandably wary of him at particularly emotional times. She'd never forgotten the way he'd shouted at everyone on the night of Fred's funeral, to the point where he'd bolted from the house and Bill had had to go after him because no one else would. And when they'd gotten back, Ron had been crying so hard he could hardly choke out an apology. Bill had been so shaken by Ron's outburst, too... so ... no. She wasn't prepared to deal with that quite yet.

She moved to where George was still crouched on the floor, seemingly frozen in place, and she knelt beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder. The moment she touched him, she felt a shudder go through him, and he dropped the wands he'd clutched in his fists. He didn't look at her, but he felt himself leaning towards her as if he were being pulled by some invisible maternal magnet she possessed. She wrapped her arms around him wordlessly, and he buried his face in her long blonde hair. The thought flitted through his mind that Fleur was being entirely too much like Bill right now, and he found that he couldn't stop himself from crying – or from hoping -- fleetingly and, he knew, futilely -- that Ron couldn't hear him.

It was some time before he was able to calm down, and then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he released Fleur from his grasp. He dragged the back of his hand across his eyes and tried to smile at her.

"So are you going to report back to Bill?" he asked, trying to make his voice as light as possible. She looked at him steadily and shook her head, and he looked back at her for a moment before nodding his approval. "Thanks," he whispered.

They both got to their feet then, and Fleur said, "I zhould be getting back to ze bank now. I zhust want to be able to tell Beel what ze 'ealer said. Ron?"

Ron was still standing with his back to them, and he didn't answer. George sighed and looked at Fleur, muttering, "Three to four months."

She tried not to gasp, but the shock in her eyes spoke volumes, and George nodded as his eyes filled again, very much against his will. Fleur squeezed his shoulder before turning to hurriedly leave the shop. She needed to get out before she started crying, herself. She had no idea how on earth she was going to give Bill this news at work. She resolved to find a way to avoid him for as long as possible as she hurried off down the street.

Meanwhile, George had taken some deep, calming breaths and was now staring at the back of Ron's head. It couldn't have been more obvious that Ron had been afraid to speak while Fleur had been there, and they needed to reopen the shop soon. This was his last chance to try to get through to him. He didn't particularly want to, but he knew he really had no choice. He had to try.

Slowly, he walked over to where Ron was still standing behind the till. He was walking heavily enough that he knew Ron was aware of his approach, but he still refused to turn. It wasn't until George was right behind him that he spoke at all.

"I'm ok." If his voice hadn't been so strangled, George would have laughed. But there was nothing funny about any of this. He kept his voice low and took a chance. He swallowed hard and said, "Well, I'm not. So turn around."

It worked. Ron turned to look at his older brother. George wasn't surprised to see that his eyes were glistening. Neither of them spoke, and then Ron choked, "I – I don't know how – to say goodbye…"

George shook his head, looking at Ron almost pityingly. "None of us do, Ron," he said, his voice breaking. The brothers stared at each other, and then Ron couldn't hold on any longer. He tried to turn away, to walk out of the room, but George was too quick for him, and he pulled him into a tight hug. For a moment, Ron was frozen, and then, suddenly, he was shaking violently. George rubbed his back, trying to soothe him, but Ron was beyond comfort, and it was a long time before he was calm enough to pull out of the embrace.

Once he did, though, he rushed from the room, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. George let out an explosive breath and shook his head. This really wasn't a surprise. Ron hated showing weakness probably more than any of the rest of them put together (well, except maybe for Ginny). But he needed to, George thought, and he knew he had to talk to Bill or Hermione. They were the only two people George could think of who could possibly get Ron to really open up. He sighed. He knew it was necessary, but he didn't relish having either of those conversations. Then he caught a glimpse of his own reddened face in the mirror, and he walked into the back room to splash cold water on himself. It was time to reopen.

It wasn't until the bell rang to usher in the third customer of the afternoon that George realized that Ron was back in the aisles, helping. He was very much not looking at George, though, and this was the case for the remainder of the day. At 6pm, as the last of the customers left the shop, George took a deep breath, steeling himself for an unpleasant conversation. But he needn't have worried. As he turned back to the store after locking up, he wasn't even surprised to find that the store was empty. Ron had bolted.


	20. Bill and Fleur

**A/N: I promise ****PROMISE**** that the dinner at the Burrow will be in the next chapter. Bill and Fleur needed one last chance to say their piece before we go there.**** Please read and review!**

Fleur kept her head down as she walked back into Gringotts. She had no idea what to do, and she dreaded the thought of running into Bill right now before she had time to formulate some sort of plan. Fortunately, she made it to her desk without incident, and it was at least an hour before he obviously found a reason to be in her vicinity.

One look at her face, no matter how hard she tried to disguise it, was all he needed to know that she had news that she did _not_ want to share. He swallowed hard but forced a smile. Maybe it had nothing to do with him… maybe it had nothing to do with his father… maybe she was just having a bad day at work… but the tears that shimmered in her eyes told him very much otherwise.

"How bad is it?" he whispered as he stopped in front of her. He leaned against the desk, hoping for the look of a casual encounter but knowing very well that if he didn't lean on this, he might not be able to stand on his own two feet for long.

Fleur studied him for a moment and then said quietly, "Ron ees een bad shape. 'E would not speak wis me. But George said zat zere are only sree to four months left."

Bill stood very still for a moment. He was no longer looking at his wife but instead at the small clock that sat on her desk. Three to four months… as he watched the second hand tick around, he wondered what that meant in terms of days, minutes, hours… how many hours would he have left for a lifetime of things he still had to tell his father?

The thought brought a lump to his throat, and he knew he needed to get away. Without another word – because he couldn't have said one if he'd tried – he bolted for Diagon Alley. There had to be somewhere he could go and not be seen. Because he couldn't be seen right now. That was the only thing he knew for sure.

He found himself some minutes later in an alley between two shops he hardly recognized. When he was reasonably certain that he was alone, he crouched down, his back against the wall, his eyes stinging with tears. He covered his face with his hands as they started to fall and hoped desperately that no one would pass by and notice him. He couldn't handle talking to anyone right now. It wasn't until he had already started to calm down when he smelled Fleur's scent, and he knew, somehow, that she'd been waiting by the stores, that she'd been giving him this time. He scrubbed at his face as she approached him, and he tried to smile as she knelt before him, but she touched his face gently and shook her head.

"Eet ees ok, Bill. You do not 'ave to pretend wis me. You know zis."

He nodded then. "You're right. I do know that. Thank you."

He pulled her into his arms and held her for a moment longer than he normally would, and she rubbed his back while she waited for him to be ready to let go. Once he did, she got to her feet and reached down to help him to his.

"Shall we get some tea?" she asked, and now he smiled for real.

"We'll make a proper English woman of you yet," he said, putting an arm around her as they walked out of the alley and down the cobblestone street. They stopped in a small café, and he bought two teas as Fleur settled herself at a small table in a corner.

Once he'd joined her, he seemed much calmer, and she started to relax. For a few minutes, they merely sat there, each sipping at the hot liquid, and then Bill took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He put his mug on the table and looked at Fleur steadily. She knew then that he'd been gathering all of his strength for this conversation, and she just watched him, waiting.

"Did George or Ron say anything else?" he asked, and she shook her head slowly.

"I already told you," she said. "Ron was very upset, and George … well, 'e seems to be coping a leetle beet better zan Ron, but I do not sink zat ees saying much right now…"

Bill nodded, his eyes troubled. "I should check on them," he muttered, but Fleur reached out suddenly and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. He looked at her in surprise as she shook her head.

"Give 'zem ze rest of ze day," she said quietly. "You could use eet too, I sink. Everyone needs ze time to process zis. I am sure zey weel notify everyone else of what ze 'ealer said eef your parents do not get to eet first."

Bill stared at her for a moment. "But I should check in with Charlie," he started to protest, but she shook her head again.

"Bill, eef Charlie needs you, 'e knows where to find you." She paused for a moment, studying his face, and then she squeezed his hand again. "I sink … _you_ need ze processing time too before you start trying to take care of everyone else. Zey know you are zere for zem. I promise."

Now he nodded. He knew she was right, and he couldn't even fight anymore. He stared at the table for a moment, and when he looked back up at her, his eyes were bright again.

"Fleur, I don't know how I'm going to go back to work for the rest of the day," he whispered, leaning in so only she could hear him.

She looked at him sympathetically. "Eesn't zere any way you could explain zis to someone at ze bank? You know zey would understand…" But before she could finish, he shook his head vehemently.

"No. I don't want anyone else to know." His voice was a lot louder than either of them expected it to be, and Fleur was startled.

"I am sorry," she said slowly. "I just … I sought eet would be easier if zey knew…"

Bill let go of her hand suddenly and folded his arms on the table, dropping his head on them. He mumbled something she didn't understand, and she leaned in so she could hear him.

"What deed you say?" she asked softly, and now he looked up at her, and her stomach turned when she saw the pain in his eyes. He barely moved his lips as he muttered, "I – I haven't said it to anyone else. I don't want to. If I say it, then…" he trailed off, but his meaning was clear. He dropped his head onto his arms again, and Fleur ran her fingers through his ponytail.

"Eet ees ok," she said softly. "You do not need to say zis until you are ready. Eef you want to go 'ome now, I weel just tell zem zat you were not feeling well."

It was such a long time before he answered that Fleur began to wonder if he'd even heard what she'd said, but he finally raised his head. It was clear that his tenuous hold on his composure was costing him, and he managed a small smile before saying, "Thank you. That would be great. I'll – I'll meet you at home?"

Fleur nodded. They left the café then and once they were outside, he pulled her into an abrupt, tight hug. He crushed her to him so forcefully that she almost lost her breath, but when he released her, he didn't say a word, just turned on the spot and disapparated to Shell Cottage.

While she went back to Gringotts and made her excuses for her husband's sudden absence, he wandered around the cottage, looking at all of their possessions. When Fleur finally returned in the evening, she found him sitting amidst a collection of clippings from the Daily Prophet.

He looked up at her when she walked in the door, and his face was so tightly controlled that it hurt Fleur to see. She walked over to the table and touched an article that was preceded by a picture of the Weasley twins. For a moment, she looked at the article and not at Bill because she could hear his shaky breathing, and she knew he was struggling for control.

Moments later, though, he lost the struggle. She turned to take him in her arms as he buried his face in her waist. She smoothed his hair and let the thought cross her mind for a brief moment – could he tell? Did he know that he was, right now, so very close to their baby?

She sighed. This was the happiest news she could imagine. But this was not the time to tell him.


	21. Dinner at the Burrow

**A/N: ****This is b****y f****ar my longest chapter ever**** but considering the expectations that ****seem to ****await it, I figured it kind of had to be. I hope it satisfies the rabid curiosity. PLEASE read and REVIEW! **

When Ron returned to Grimmauld Place that night, he sent his Patronus to Charlie, Percy, and Ginny with the news. It took him three tries to say "three to four months" without sounding like he was crying. Then he sent an owl to the Burrow to let them know he and Harry would be over for dinner the next night. He knew he hadn't asked Harry about this yet, but he also knew that with Ginny out of town, if Harry weren't eating with Ron, he would most likely be sitting in the kitchen, reading the Daily Prophet and eating whatever Kreacher put before him.

When Harry got home from the ministry, he found Ron sitting in the living room, staring into the fire. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu, but he merely took the other seat in the room. After a few minutes of silence, he realized that Ron wasn't planning on saying anything, so he cleared his throat. When Ron turned to him, he looked startled, and Harry realized that he'd gone off into his own world. He felt a pang of fear but forced himself to speak.

"So," he started, his voice low, "how'd the appointment go today?"

Ron shrugged and turned back to look into the fire. "The Healer said three – three to four months." His voice was flat and emotionless, but from the way he continued to avoid Harry's eyes, Harry knew just how upset he was. But he found he couldn't even say anything to try to help because the words were now sinking in for him as well. He felt a pain in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He had also begun to stare into the flames when Ron said, "My mum and dad asked if we would come for dinner tomorrow night. I said it was all right with me. I figured it would be ok with you too?"

Harry glanced at him quickly and nodded before turning back to look into the fire once again.

For a long time, neither of them said a word, and then Ron asked, his voice carefully casual, "Ginny get off all right the other day?"

Harry didn't answer, and when Ron finally turned to look at him, he was startled to see that he was biting his lip and looking very much like he always tried not to. Ron looked away again quickly and after a couple of minutes, Harry said, his voice hoarse, "It – it wasn't good. But I don't think – well, it wasn't good."

Ron knew he wasn't going to say anymore, and he also knew that this was probably why his parents wanted them to come to dinner together. So he nodded and lapsed back into a silence which Harry gratefully accepted.

Hours later, Harry had started to push himself out of his chair to go to bed when he was startled to suddenly hear Ron's voice.

"The healer – she also said something else." He looked at Harry and tried to scowl, but there was uncertainty in his eyes. Harry sank back into his seat and waited. Ron cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "She – she said that they have these people on staff at St. Mungo's. She said they're like what muggles call cyclists or something? For people to talk to?"

Now Harry had to try not to smile. Even after all of these years of knowing Hermione's family, Ron's knowledge of the muggle world still left much to be desired.

"Psychiatrists, you mean?" He somehow managed to keep the amusement out of his voice and was glad he had because now Ron looked miserable again.

"Yeah, psychiatrists," he mumbled. He shrugged. "You've – you've never known anyone who's talked to one of those people, have you? They're for nutters, right? Or people without families or friends?"

Harry studied his best mate for a moment. "I – I wouldn't say that," he said slowly. "I don't think they'd have them at St. Mungo's and recommend them to people like you if they were for nutters, do you?"

Ron flushed. "Well … Healer Jones might think I'm a nutter," he admitted. "I – I yelled at her the day my parents told me and Hermione about my dad. I left the Burrow and went to St. Mungo's and just kind of shouted a lot."

Now he was studying his knees intently, but his ears were scarlet. Harry stared at him for a moment before saying, "Ron, you really think that would make them think you're crazy? You've seen the floor where they keep Lockhart locked up. They – they know about crazy. I'm sure she told you about these psychiatrists because she knows how hard something like this can be, and that's why they have them on staff. Your dad's not the first person to ever get a diagnosis like this. You wouldn't be the first person to talk to one of them."

Ron nodded quickly. For a moment, they sat there in silence, and then he mumbled, "Please – please don't mention this to Hermione or anyone, ok? I – I don't want to talk about this with anybody else. If I do decide to go, no one else needs to know about it."

"Of course," Harry said immediately. Another quick glance at Ron told him it was time to change the subject. "What time are we going to the Burrow tomorrow?"

Ron shrugged. "Why don't you go straight from the ministry? I'll meet you there after George and I close up. That would probably be around 6."

Harry got out of his chair. "Ok. I'll see you there around 6. Night, Ron."

"Night, Harry," Ron said quietly as he turned back to the fire. For a moment, Harry studied him, but Ron didn't look up again.

* * *

When Ron got to the shop the next morning, George smiled at him quickly across the crowd, and Ron smiled back weakly, grateful for the reprieve. There would be hard conversations later that night. No need to start now.

The shop was more crowded than usual considering it was almost time for kids to be starting back to Hogwarts, and it was nearly 7 by the time George and Ron concluded the day's business. Ron glanced at the clock and gasped.

"What is it?" George asked. "Hot date with Hermione tonight?"

Ron somehow resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his big brother and merely said, "No," in as dignified a voice as he could manage. Then he sighed. "No. Mum asked if Harry and I would go there for dinner tonight. I don't know why. I think something might have happened when Ginny left the other night."

Now George looked distinctly nervous, but he tried to smile. "Bet Gin threatened them with the Bat Bogey Hex if they didn't keep her informed or something."

"Yeah," Ron said, trying to sound convinced. "Probably something like that."

They glanced at each other for a moment and then just as quickly looked away. Neither of them was convinced. But Ron didn't have the time to discuss it anymore anyway.

"I need to get there," he said, glancing at the clock again, and George sighed.

"Go," he said. "I'll finish up around here. But you owe me the time tomorrow."

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "yeah, yeah," as he took off the shop robes. He tossed them in the back and then took the stairs up to the flat two at a time so he could apparate to the Burrow. Once he was out of range of the shop's protective charms, he turned on the spot.

He arrived just beyond the fence and made his way through the garden to the back door. One glance in the window showed him that his mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner, but neither his father nor Harry were anywhere to be found. He walked inside, confusion evident on his face.

"'Lo, Mum," he said, going over to where she was moving her wand over the pot in a complicated pattern. She looked over her shoulder and tried to smile.

"Oh, hello, dear," she said, and she made one last motion, leaving her wand hovering and swirling just as quickly. She turned to hug her youngest son, and it took every ounce of strength that Ron had not to cling to her, but he forced himself to let go quickly. But she knew. One look at him told her to wait. Before she could offer him a seat or a drink, though, he looked around, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Isn't Harry here yet?" he asked, and a shadow crossed her face as she nodded, but she didn't say anymore.

"Mum?" he asked again, and now the concern in his voice made her sigh and motion for him to take a seat at the table.

"Your father is speaking to him now, Ron. Sit down. There are some things I need to tell you." Her voice was very serious, and Ron looked nervous, but he took the seat she indicated without another word.

Molly sighed. "When Harry and Ginny came here for dinner the other night before she left, well – did he tell you anything about what happened?"

Ron shook his head. "Only that it wasn't good. He didn't say anything else."

Molly rubbed her eyes for a moment, remembering. "It _wasn't_ good," she confirmed faintly, and then she took her hand away and fixed Ron with a steely gaze. "Your father and I were talking after they left the next morning, and we need you and Hermione to do something for us," she said, her voice her own again. Ron nodded, a little more relaxed now that she had returned to her usual self.

"Sure. What is it?"

"We need you or Hermione to stay in close contact with Ginny to let her know what's going on with your father. It might even be better if it were Hermione."

Ron managed to look offended. "Why Hermione? I could tell her."

Molly took his hand. "I know you can. I just think that sometimes, with Ginny, at least, it's easier for her if she doesn't have to put on a brave face, and she feels like she needs to do that with all of you boys."

Ron was forced to acknowledge the truth of this. It wasn't a secret that Ginny was the toughest of all of the Weasley kids. She always had been. But then something occurred to him. "Even Harry?" he asked, and now Molly looked pained as she nodded slowly. "Even Harry," she said quietly.

"Mum, what happened when Ginny and Harry came the other night?" he asked, and now his voice was more serious than Molly could remember hearing it in a long time. She sighed.

"We had dinner, and then we started talking about some plans your father and I have been making because, well, Ginny asked. And Harry – he's not having an easy time with this. He wanted to leave the table, but Ginny wouldn't let him. I don't know why, but I don't think she realizes how much this upsets him or even why it does. They got into an argument, and then they _both_ left the table. They made up later, but I don't think they had enough time to talk about all of this yet for Harry to be the one to keep Ginny informed. He might do it anyway – but I do want Hermione to also be in touch with her."

Ron sighed and nodded. "Ok, Mum. I'll tell her. But – but why didn't you also invite her for tonight? Then you could have told her this yourself."

Molly glanced at the table for a moment. "You're right. I could have told her this myself. But there's something else I needed to ask you. Harry and Ginny have their wedding planned for a year from now. I know they're both thinking of changing it so – so your father can be there." Her voice shook, and she paused before continuing. When she did, her voice was a lot more hesitant. "Well, I was thinking. Are you and Hermione planning…" She trailed off as she watched the realization dawn in Ron's eyes. His ears turned bright red.

"_Mum_," he said despairingly, and she squeezed his hand.

"I know it isn't fair of me to even ask," she continued quietly, "but the writing has been on the wall about you two for years now. I don't want to push you into anything you aren't ready for. These things should happen on their own time. It's just –I wanted to mention it to you. That's all."

Ron sighed. "I'll think about it," he mumbled, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. She let another minute or so pass before she said, "There's one more thing, Ron," and he looked up when he heard the serious tone again.

The sadness in her eyes made his breath catch in his throat. "What is it?" he asked, and his voice wavered. She tried to smile at him but failed miserably.

Instead, she said, "I want you and Harry to be there for each other. I know that sounds ridiculous because I know you always have, but on this – I need you to let him in, and I need you to make sure he lets you in too. It's easy for both of you to turn to Hermione, but it's your family that Harry is a part of. You know that he has a hard time realizing that we think of him as one of our own, but he needs to now. He's already lost too many fathers in his life. I'm afraid this could break him, and he needs to know that you understand and that you won't judge him for being upset about it."

Ron had stopped looking at her, but he nodded even as he quickly swiped a hand across his eyes.

"I know," he managed to say. Molly studied him for a moment, and then she got up and came around the table to put her arms around him. The moment she touched him, he lost whatever control he'd still had.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered, "for caring so much about your friends." She rocked him back and forth like she did when he was still very small. A few minutes later, she looked beyond him to the closed door to the living room, wondering how Arthur was doing with Harry...

Harry was sitting with his head in his hands, and Arthur had a hand on his shaking shoulders. He was speaking softly but insistently. He knew his words were making it harder right now, but he also knew Harry needed to hear them. And it had taken almost an hour of Harry trying to keep the conversation normal before Arthur had said the words that had caused all of his defenses to crumble.

"Harry," he had said, "Molly and I have thought of you as a member of this family since the first time Ron brought you here when you were 12 years old. Whether you're married to Ginny or not, you're still our son. You're a Potter, of course, but you're also a Weasley." He almost smiled as he added, "you just have black hair. That's the only difference."

But Harry wasn't ready for levity. He didn't move or speak, so Arthur had lapsed into silence. When the door creaked open and Molly peered in, he glanced once more at Harry and then stood up and approached his wife, who was now looking at Harry, herself, tears in her own eyes.

"Is he…" she whispered, gesturing towards Harry, and he shook his head.

"How about Ron?" he asked, and she opened the door slightly, motioning toward the table where their son had now buried his face in his arms. For a moment, they stood looking from one to the other, and then, without a word passing between them, Molly went over to Ron and took his arm, pulling him to his feet.

He stared at her through tear-filled eyes, and she simply put an arm around him and led him to the living room. He stiffened when he saw Harry, but then he took in exactly what he was seeing, and he stumbled into the room, muttering thickly, "Oi, Harry."

Harry looked up with a start, but when he saw Ron's bloodshot eyes, he got to his feet. Suddenly, the moments after Ron had destroyed the locket Horcrux floated through his mind, and then, without either of them realizing quite how it happened, they were hugging tightly. Harry tried to control his own tears, and Ron made every desperate attempt to clamp down on his own, but it was a long time before either of them was ready to let go.

When they finally did, they realized that Arthur and Molly had left them alone, and they both sat down, a small awkwardness surfacing as they found it hard to look at one another. Finally, Ron broke the silence.

"So my mother wants me to propose to Hermione now."

Harry looked up, startled. "She wants you to do _what_?"

Ron sighed. "I understand why," he said. "But – honestly, Harry. I have to _propose_?" He was starting to get the panicky look in his eyes, and Harry was surprised to feel laughter bubbling up inside of him.

"You'll be ok," he said. He wanted to sound reassuring, but Ron heard the amusement, and he looked at him reproachfully.

"Some best mate you are," he muttered.

For a moment, they looked at one another, and then Ron said quietly, "you are, you know." His voice was suddenly serious as he added, "my best mate _and_ part of this family."

Harry nodded quickly, glancing away from Ron. After a moment, he said, "Thanks."

Molly and Arthur glanced at each where they were standing on the other side of the door.

"They'll be there for each other, Molly," Arthur said quietly, and she nodded. But then she looked more closely at her husband, and she saw everything he was trying to hold back for her sake.

"And I'll be here for you," she whispered. "We all will be."

He looked at her for a moment and then pulled her into his arms. She held on tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder, and she knew that in the coming months, they would all take turns at being there for one another. Right now, it was her turn to be the strong one.


	22. The Announcement

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated entirely to Katy. Thanks for the inspiration. (I'm going to write back soon, too! I promise.)**** Please read and review!**

The following Saturday saw everyone back at the Burrow. Molly had invited them for dinner, and the only person missing was Ginny, who couldn't get away. Harry showed up with Ron and Hermione, and Molly noticed that while he still looked pale and sad, he seemed slightly calmer. Hermione, on the other hand, looked worse than she had at Mungo's the previous Monday. Her hair was frizzier than usual, and instead of the usual spark of interest in her eyes, she looked numb. Molly felt a stab of guilt. She probably could have found a way to have had that conversation with Ron without excluding Hermione, but it was too late for that now. She resolved to talk to her as much as possible.

Bill and Charlie were sitting in one corner of the living room talking quietly to each other. Harry, Ron and Hermione were on the other side of the room, and they were also talking, Molly noticing with another stab that Hermione didn't seem to have much to say. Percy and George were sitting with Arthur, and he was trying to smile as he listened to George's stories from the shop and Percy's stories from the ministry, but as Molly glanced at him, it couldn't have been clearer to her he wished he could go upstairs and lie down. She was starting to recognize the signs of his impending headaches, and she knew one was coming on now.

She turned away from the living room and walked back over to the stove. Fleur was sitting at the table, watching her and occasionally trying to help, but she seemed tired and more than a little jumpy. After getting up to help and then dropping her wand for the third time in as many minutes, Molly put her hands on her daughter-in-law's shoulders and guided her back to the table.

"Sit down, dear," she said kindly. "You don't seem like yourself tonight."

Molly's words rang a little too true, and while Fleur tried to smile and nod, she just couldn't. She felt her eyes filling with tears, and she stared down into her lap.

"Fleur?" Molly asked. "Are you all right?"

Fleur shrugged. "I am fine, Molly. Sank you. I am zhust tired."

Molly looked at her sharply. "Are you getting ill? You should make sure you're getting enough sleep."

Fleur shook her head. "I am sleeping many hours every night. Eet ees nossing."

For a moment, Molly studied her, and then she breathed in with a sharp hiss.

"You're pregnant." Her voice was quiet, but all of the color drained from Fleur's face. Desperate, she turned to her mother-in-law.

"Please do not say anysing!" she begged. "I 'ave not told Bill. I do not sink 'e is ready to 'ear zis news yet. I – I want 'im to be 'appy about zis, but I do not sink 'e can be right now."

She looked to be on the verge of tears again, and Molly pulled her chair closer and put her arm around her daughter-in-law.

"This is very good news," she whispered. "Arthur will be thrilled."

But the tremor in her voice was audible, and Fleur looked at her, her lower lip trembling.

"But 'e will not ever get to meet 'is grandchild." Her voice shook, and now Molly pulled her into her arms. For a moment, the two women just sat there, breathing unsteadily, trying not to cry. After a few minutes, Molly let go, and they wiped their eyes quickly.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, and then Molly said, "I won't say anything, Fleur, but Bill needs something like this right now. I think this _is_ the right time. I can't imagine anyone wouldn't. I would – I would really like it if you told him today."

Fleur looked at her for a moment and then nodded slowly. "I weel be back soon," she murmured as she got to her feet and walked into the living room. The moment she approached her husband, he stopped whatever he'd been saying to Charlie and smiled up at her.

"Come wis me," she whispered, taking his hand and tugging him to his feet. "We weel be right back," she said apologetically to Charlie, but he smiled and motioned for them to go as he crossed the room to join his father and brothers.

Bill and Fleur had walked into the orchard and were just out of sight of the Burrow when she stopped and turned to him. Before he could say anything, she reached up and kissed him. When she finally stopped, he smiled at her.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, slightly breathless.

"I – I 'ave somesing I need to tell you," she began slowly. He looked at her curiously, but she looked down and laced her fingers through his. Finally, she continued speaking, but she couldn't bring herself to look back up at him.

"Bill – we – we are going to 'ave a baby." She couldn't think of any other way to say it, and she also didn't have the energy for any type of ruse right now. When he didn't say anything, she finally forced herself to look at him. He was staring at her, his mouth open slightly, and she felt herself starting to smile.

"We – we are?" he stammered, and she nodded. She pulled him closer, and he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the air. But a moment later, he quickly lowered her back to the ground and set her gently on her feet.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, but now she smiled for real.

"I am fine," she assured him. He stared at her, his expression dazed but happier than she'd seen him in weeks. But a moment later, his eyes darkened.

"Nine months." He mumbled it so quietly that she almost missed it, but she found her own smile fading as she knew what he was thinking.

"Seven," she whispered. After a moment, he nodded briskly, but he couldn't seem to look at her.

"Bill?" she asked quietly. She could see that his face was twisted in the grimace that usually meant he was fighting for control, and she didn't say another word, just wrapped her arms around him. After a moment, he started shaking, and she held on as tightly as she could.

When he finally pulled away, he turned from her, rubbing his eyes with heels of his hands.

"I'm sorry," he muttered thickly. "This isn't fair. This should be the happiest moment of our lives."

"I'm sad too," Fleur said, her own voice wavering. "I know eet eesn't ze way eet should be, Bill. I weesh – I weesh ze timing was deeferent too."

He nodded, clearing his throat. "It should be," he said, his voice tight. Finally, he turned back to look at her, and now he forced a smile again.

"I am so happy that you are having our baby, Fleur Weasley," he said, and even through the sadness in his eyes, she knew he meant every word, and she raised herself on her toes to kiss him again.

"Are you ready to go back?" she asked, and he nodded, squeezing her hand tightly.

They were almost at the back door when Bill turned to her. "Let's tell them now," he said impulsively.

Fleur looked at him startled. "You – you are sure?" she asked, and he nodded.

"It's good news. It's about time this family had good news, isn't it?"

Fleur wasn't so sure about that, but she knew that this was Bill's decision to make, and this was not the time to argue with him. She nodded quietly and let him lead her into the living room.

"Mum, can you come in here?" he called toward the kitchen, and Molly appeared in the doorway. She looked at Bill for a moment and then turned to Fleur, her eyes questioning. At her quick nod, Molly smiled slightly.

"We have to tell you all something," Bill announced, and at the sound of his voice, all of the conversations in the room came to an abrupt stop as everyone turned in their direction.

He found himself looking at his father, and now the words stuck in his throat. There was a long silence and then Fleur realized that Bill was frozen. She cleared her throat and said, "We – we are 'aving a baby!"

The silence deepened, and then Arthur got to his feet. He walked unsteadily over to his son and daughter-in-law and took a long look at Bill before pulling him into a tight hug.

"You're going to be a wonderful father," he whispered. He felt a tremor course through his oldest son, and he let go of him quickly, knowing he would prefer anything to showing emotion in front of his siblings. Bill let out a deep breath then, and Arthur turned away from him and smiled weakly at Fleur.

"Congratulations," he said quietly, hugging her gently. But when he released her, he quickly left the room.

Molly immediately went after him, her eyes pained, but before anyone could comment on his sudden departure, Hermione was on her feet, pulling Ron and Harry after her to congratulate the expecting couple. George and Percy joined the crowd, and they were all too busy hugging to notice that Charlie hadn't joined them. It wasn't until they were all sitting again that Bill realized that Charlie hadn't moved from his place on the sofa and was now glaring at them.

"What?" he asked, genuinely startled, and Charlie shook his head in amazement.

"Do you really think this is the right time for news like this? Do you think it's even the right time to be doing something like this?" The edge to his voice was sharp, and Fleur stiffened.

Bill stared at him for a moment before he trusted himself to speak.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He finally asked, the edge in his voice matching Charlie's, but now his younger brother just shook his head dismissively.

"Never mind. It doesn't matter now. Just make sure you don't worry about how this is affecting Dad. Wouldn't want anything to get in the way of your _happiness_."

It was all of Fleur's guilt spoken aloud, and she couldn't sit there any longer. Without even thinking about where she was going, she bolted from the room. For a moment, they all sat there. Ron, Hermione, Harry, George and Percy had identical stunned expressions, but it was Bill's explosive anger that shattered the silence.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded, jumping to his feet. Charlie jumped to his own feet and glared back at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with _you_?" he shouted back. "Did _you_ see Dad's face? Or is that not something you're worried about now? I guess you have more important things to think about."

None of them – even Charlie – realized what was happening when Bill suddenly reared back and punched him as hard as he could. Charlie couldn't even punch back as his hands went immediately to his face. For a moment, the brothers stared at each other, Charlie's eyes just visible over his cupped hands, and then Bill turned and ran.


	23. Fallout: Ron and Hermione

**A/N at the end for a change!**

Charlie was breathing heavily through his mouth, and he stumbled over to Hermione, whose eyes were unmistakably frightened. He managed to mutter, "Can you fix this?" and she stared at him for a moment before grabbing her wand and mumbling some version of "reparo" that Charlie had never heard before.

Instantly, his nose stopped aching, and he removed his hands. For a moment, and he couldn't have explained why if anyone asked him, he stared at Hermione as she looked into his eyes questioningly, but then he somehow knew that if he stayed there for a moment longer, there was a very real possibility that he would burst into tears, so he took the stairs three at a time and slammed and locked the door to his old childhood bedroom. He had nowhere else to go.

Down in the living room, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Percy and George had found their ways back to the couches, and they were now facing each other, but none of them spoke. It was a long time until George broke the silence.

"Is this fixable?" he asked, his voice low. He looked around, but no one seemed to have an answer.

Ron said, "It has to be. You know Bill can't stay mad for that long. I'm sure he'll come around to try to fix things up."

Percy sighed. "I hope you're right, but I don't know... If there's anything that could make Bill unreasonable, it's the idea that someone's hurt Fleur. And there's no denying that Charlie did that tonight. Besides, even if Bill wants to stop fighting, he punched Charlie pretty hard. I don't know how fast Charlie'll forgive something like that."

His siblings had to acknowledge the truth of that statement. They sat there glumly, and then Ron said, "Did you – did you see Dad's face when Fleur said – said it?"

He hated the way his voice trembled when he said his father's name, but from the looks on his brothers' faces, he knew that they understood. Hermione laced her fingers tightly through his, and then Percy said, his own voice shaking, "Mum – Mum went after him. He'll be ok."

No one had to say it for all of them to know that they were thinking the same thing. He _wouldn't_ be ok – and they couldn't imagine that they ever really would be either.

Harry cleared his throat. "Should – shouldn't someone talk to Charlie?" he asked hesitantly. For a moment, Ron almost smiled, so glad that Harry was even saying anything at all, but then he realized that he knew the answer to this question, and it was bound to cause even more problems.

"The only person who could talk to him right now is Ginny." George said it, and Ron flinched, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye. He'd gone white, but he nodded.

"I'll – I'll go floo her now," he mumbled, getting to his feet and stumbling out of the house. Ron and Hermione knew he was going back to Grimmauld Place so he could do this privately. Ron sighed. This could only get worse because it meant that Ginny would realize that Bill had made this announcement while she was away. If they were trying to make her feel like her frequent absences weren't going to change anything, this wasn't the way to do it.

Once Harry had gone, though, George got to his feet, too.

"Where are you going?" Percy asked, and Ron and Hermione could hear the worry in his voice that had lurked just beneath the surface for the past two years. But George just shrugged and walked into the backyard. After a moment's hesitation, Percy followed him quietly.

Hermione and Ron were alone now, and as they sat there, the only sound either of them could hear was the other's breathing. Finally, Hermione said tentatively, "This _is_ good news, isn't it, Ron?"

He'd never heard her sound this unsure in all of the years he'd known her, and he turned to look at her slowly.

"Yeah," he said, trying to sound like he believed it. He repeated, "Yeah, it's good. Of course it is. A baby…" He trailed off, and Hermione moved closer to him, letting go of his hand, so she could wrap her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his shoulder and whispered, "Do you think your dad is really going to be able to be happy about this?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno," he confessed. He sighed and stared at the far wall. "I hope he can be," he said faintly. "This'll be his first grandchild, after all." He mumbled something else so quietly that Hermione missed it, and she said, "What?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

But his breathing seemed slightly more labored, and she knew she couldn't let this go.

"What?" she repeated, and he sighed again.

"I just said it's also going to be his only grandchild." His words were muffled by the effort it took him to say them again, and Hermione's heart started to hurt.

She waited a moment, drawing in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

"That's not true, Ron," she said quietly.

He made a small noise that she knew was supposed to end the conversation, but she wasn't finished.

"It isn't," she insisted. She paused, trying to think of the words that wouldn't hurt him, but she finally decided to just say what she knew he needed to hear.

"Your kids will still be his grandchildren, Ron, even if he isn't here to meet them. The same goes for Bill and Charlie and Percy and George and Ginny. All of their kids will have a part of Arthur Weasley in them."

Ron didn't trust his voice to work properly, so he nodded but said nothing for a few minutes before swallowing hard a few times.

"I know." His voice was strangled, and he kept his face turned away from Hermione, but he couldn't prevent the hot tears that were building in his eyes. He tried to blink them away, but Hermione could feel the tension in him as she tightened her arms around his waist.

"It's ok," she whispered. "It's going to be ok. You'll have kids someday, and your dad will never really be gone."

He was shaking now, but she didn't say a word, just kept her arms around him and waited. Finally, he whispered, "I want them to know him."

He turned to her at last, and the tears on his face made her own spill over at last.

"I know you do," she whispered back.

But he shook his head. "No. I mean I _need_ them to know him. I need – I need our kids to know their grandfather, Hermione."

It wasn't lost on her. But this wasn't the time to smile or gasp or do anything other than move fully into his arms as he buried his face in her shoulder. She rubbed his back, and she couldn't help but remember the last time she'd seen him this broken.

_They'd been back at the Burrow for three days. Fred's funeral was set for the next morning, but Ron had hardly spoken a word in the time since they'd left Hogwarts. He'd been holding her hand like she was his life preserver, and she knew she probably was, but she'd been so worried that he hadn't been talking. __And then they'd gone to the funeral, and he'd bitten his lip so hard that he'd drawn blood. But that night… Aunt Muriel had said something about Fred being in a better place now, and Ron had just snapped. He'd shouted louder than she'd ever heard him before, even at the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch matches, and then he'd run from the house. She'd been too shocked to move and was grateful when Bill went after him. When he'd brought him back__, though __… well, she'd never asked Ron what he'd said because he didn't like to remember any of it. But she'd never seen Ron cry like that before – none of them had – and she was the one who he'd clung to so desperately. She'd been afraid to let go of him, afraid that he would break into a million pieces if she did._

She was relieved now when he pulled away, drawing his hand across his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She half-expected him to leave the room as he had a tendency to do on the few occasions when she had seen him this shaken, but he looked at her now, and he took her hand.

"My children will be ours, won't they?" he asked, and Hermione felt herself stiffen with shock. He'd – he'd meant it? She nodded slowly.

"Of – of course they will," she stammered. "But does this mean…?" It was the second time she'd sounded this unsure in one day, and Ron almost smiled. Almost. But then he looked into her eyes and said words that he'd never thought he'd be able to say without a lot more rehearsing.

"I love you, Hermione Granger. I've probably loved you since the day Harry and I rescued you from that troll. And I want you to be Hermione Weasley more than I've ever wanted pretty much anything. Will you?"

His voice was shaking again, and she threw herself into his arms, saying breathlessly, "Of course I will. I love you, too, Ron Weasley. I always have, and I always will."

They held each other, and Ron knew he would never let go. But after a moment, Hermione pulled back slightly. She looked half-serious, half-amused, and she said, "Let's wait a little while before we tell anyone about this, all right? I don't want to have to fix your nose now, too."

Ron snorted, but then he nodded. "Good idea." After another moment, he said, his voice serious again, "Why don't you go see how Harry's doing? It's been a while since he's been gone. I want to – to check on my parents."

She nodded, her heart sinking. He was right. _Everyone_ had been gone for quite a while now, and that didn't bode well for anyone.

_**A/N: We'll catch up with the rest of them in subsequent chapters. There's a lot of ground to cover now with Percy/George, Arthur/Molly, Charlie, Bill/Fleur, Harry/Ginny. Stay tuned, and please read and REVIEW! Thanks! **_


	24. Fallout: Harry and Ginny

Hermione didn't know whether or not Harry would want her there for this conversation with Ginny, but she knew that if Ron were asking her to do this, she didn't have much of a choice. She apparated into the entryway of Grimmauld Place and immediately heard the shouting coming from the living room. She sighed. This was _not_ going to be easy.

Slowly, she made her way to the doorway and then stopped short. Harry had his face in the fireplace, and all she could see was his outstretched body and the back of his head, but she knew right away that she didn't want to see his face. 

"I don't know _why_ he didn't wait until you were here!" he exclaimed. "I didn't exactly ask him. All I know is what I _told_ you, Gin. George said you're the only one who could talk to Charlie now, so everyone thinks you should come home."

Hermione rocked on her heels in the doorway, wondering if she should back out slowly as she heard the echo of Ginny's voice, but it was too indistinct for her to make out any words. Then Harry said shortly, "Fine. I'll wait here for you," and he was backing out of the fireplace. But instead of getting to his feet, he folded his arms and rested his head in them. When he hadn't moved for a little while, Hermione cleared her throat. He jumped to his feet but then relaxed when he saw that it was her.

"She's coming home?" Hermione asked smoothly, pretending she hadn't just seen his moment of weakness, and he nodded just as casually.

"She just needed to go tell her captain," he explained. "She doesn't think it will be a problem."

The two friends stood there, not speaking, and then Harry said, his voice low, "She's – she's pretty upset that Bill told the family when she wasn't home."

Hermione sighed, and suddenly, the memory of what Ron had told her about his dinner at his parents' house came floating back to her. "Harry, why don't I wait for her? You go on back to the Burrow – I'll tell her Ron needed you or something. It might be easier if I explain it to her, and then we'll meet you there."

For a moment, Harry looked torn, but he finally nodded. The relief he was trying to hide was unmistakable, and then, with a mumbled, "Thanks, Hermione," he was gone.

Hermione settled herself in the armchair and waited. It wasn't long before there was a loud pop, and then Ginny was standing before her, and she was clearly furious. She had drawn herself up, ready to yell, but the sight of Hermione waiting for her seemed to serve as a pinprick to her anger, and she deflated right before her friend's eyes.

"Hullo, Hermione," she almost whispered, and then Hermione was on her feet and pulling Ginny into her arms as she shuddered, trying to hold down the sobs that were as inexplicable to her as they were to her stunned friend. But Hermione merely tightened her arms around the younger girl and held her until she managed to get herself under control.

Once she was calmer, Ginny pulled away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She let out an explosive breath and threw herself into the other armchair, Hermione retaking the one in which she'd been awaiting her friend's arrival.

It was a few minutes before Ginny was ready to talk, but her first question was exactly what Hermione had expected.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, and Hermione sighed.

"Ron needed his help back at the Burrow. I told him we'd meet him there once you were ready to go. _Are_ you ready?"

Ginny shrugged, letting out a shaky breath. "I – I guess? I don't know, Hermione. I really don't know how to do this. And I don't understand why they all seem to think I'm the only one who can talk to Charlie about this. I'm – I'm angry at Bill, too."

Hermione stared at her, her eyes wide and shocked. "You're mad at _Bill_?" she asked, and she couldn't keep the disapproval out of her voice. Ginny stiffened.

"Well, if he wanted to tell the whole family, why couldn't he wait another few days? If he'd told me he had an announcement to make, I'd have found a way to make it home for it."

Hermione sighed. "Ginny, honestly? I think Fleur had just told him out in the garden, and he wasn't thinking too clearly about anything. He'd probably deny this if anyone said it, but I was looking at him while he was trying to tell us, and I would swear he'd just been crying before they came in."

Ginny's mouth fell open slightly as she stared at Hermione. "Bill?" she asked weakly. "Bill was – crying?"

Hermione's eyes were pained, but she nodded. "Gin – I think he was just trying to do _anything_ he could to make your parents smile. I honestly think that was the _only_ thing on his mind. And then he couldn't even say it. Fleur had to tell everyone."

Ginny's lips twisted. "I see…" she said, and her eyes filled with tears again. She sniffed angrily. "And I yelled at Harry," she said, her voice wobbling. "Hermione, I've been so terrible to him, and I don't even know why."

Hermione took one look at her friend and moved to sit on the arm of her chair so she could put her arm around her. "I don't think you've been terrible to him," she said gently. "I think you're just in pain, and he is too… and it's hard to help him when you're hurting so much."

"And …," Ginny sighed. "Well, I love that he cares about my dad so much, but it just makes this so much more complicated. I don't know how to help him when I hardly know how to help myself. In some ways, I almost think this might be worse for him, and that just kills me, Hermione. I love him. I can't bear to see him hurting like this."

Hermione sighed. "It isn't a question of who has it worse, Ginny," she said quietly. "You both have it bad. The bottom line is just being there for each other. That's all you need to do. The rest will work itself out."

Ginny thought about this for a moment, and then she nodded. "I know you're right," she said quietly. She took a deep breath. "And I'm not mad at Bill anymore either. I'm ready to talk to Charlie." She shook her head. "This family really is a mess, Hermione. You might want to think about running."

Hermione's lips twitched, but she managed not to smile as she got to her feet.

"Eh, I think I'll stick around," she said lightly. Once Ginny was standing before her, the girls looked at one another for a long moment before Ginny uncharacteristically reached out to initiate a hug.

"Thanks," Ginny whispered. "I don't know what any of us would do without you. I take it back. No running allowed."

Now Hermione did laugh. "You've got it," she promised.

Moments later, they were standing in the garden outside the Burrow. They made their way into the living room, and the first people they saw were Harry and Ron. Harry was staring at his feet, but he looked up when they walked in, and Hermione immediately knew that things had not gone well when Ron had gone to look in on his parents. One look at Ron confirmed her fear, and she went to him quickly, forgetting that Ginny was standing behind her, forgetting that Harry was now staring at Ginny, forgetting everything but the fact that the boy she loved was sitting with his head in his hands.

It was only when she'd put her hand on his back that he stirred, and then he pulled her into his arms so tightly that she didn't know if she were ever going to be able to breathe painlessly again. But when he choked, "It's so hard, 'Mione," and he pressed his face into her shoulder, she stopped caring. 

It only took Harry and Ginny seconds to realize that Ron and Hermione weren't going to be talking any time soon, and they wordlessly left them alone.

In the garden, Harry was shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, looking anywhere but at his girlfriend, when he was startled to hear her voice, low and urgent, saying, "I'm – I'm sorry, Harry."

He turned to her then, but she was staring at her feet. After a moment, though, she looked at him, and her soft brown eyes were full of tears.

"I've been horrid to you," she went on hoarsely, "and you haven't deserved it. Maybe – maybe it was just easy to take all of this out on the person closest to me."

She didn't need to say anymore. He grabbed her hand then and pulled her close to him, closing his eyes and losing himself in the scent of her long, red hair. When they finally released one another, Harry smiled for the first time in weeks.

"I'm glad you're here," he said softly, and she found herself smiling too. 

"So am I," she murmured. But then a thought crossed her mind, and she scowled. "I should go talk to that git now, shouldn't I?" 

Harry's smile faded quickly, and he sighed. "Just – be nice to him," he said slowly, but he hastened to explain when he saw Ginny's incredulous expression.

"I know he was awful to Bill and Fleur, but – well, I saw his face after Hermione fixed his nose. He seemed like he was pretty upset."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she nodded. "All right then. I'm going up. You'll – you'll wait for me?"

Harry pulled her in for one last kiss. "Forever," he said, and now she even laughed.

"Oh, Potter," she said, a hint of her old teasing back in her voice. "You're such a romantic. If you don't watch out, I'll tell Ron."

Harry laughed too. "Who do you think bought me the book that taught me all I know?"

Ginny shook her head. "You two are hopeless," she said before turning and going back into the house. She was careful not to look toward the couch where she heard the unmistakable sounds of Ron unsuccessfully fighting tears, and she made her way up the stairs to her older brother's room. She paused for a moment before his door. This wasn't going to be easy.

**A/N: Well, slowly but surely, the knots are getting untangled. Please read and REVIEW!**


	25. Fallout: Charlie and Ginny and Ron

Ginny didn't even bother to knock. She knew her second oldest brother, and she knew that when he was upset about something, unless he was directly confronted, he simply shut down. So she took a deep breath, took hold of her courage and the doorknob, and tried to push open the door. When it wouldn't budge, she knocked sharply.

She got no response, and after another knock that went unanswered, she called, "Charlie?" 

And the door opened. She stared for a moment, surprised, but then she stepped slowly into the room. Charlie was sitting on his bed, and he wasn't looking at her, but she simply closed the door behind herself and crossed the room to sit across from him.

For a few minutes, Charlie didn't say a word. He stared out the window, and Ginny stared at him. Finally, reluctantly, he turned to look at her.

"They sent for you, didn't they?" he asked. His voice sounded a lot more miserable and a lot less angry than he'd expected it to, and he flushed and shifted his gaze to his feet. Ginny realized that what Hermione'd said was true.

"Charlie," she said gently, and she reached over and put her hand on his arm. "I know you didn't really mean what you said to Bill and Fleur. _I_ know it."

He couldn't bring himself to look at her. He blinked fast and swallowed hard.

"I didn't." His voice was low, but Ginny heard him, and now she took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Will you apologize?" she asked, and he hesitated a moment before nodding slowly.

"I just –" He had to clear his throat, and his voice was hoarse when he said, "I don't know if Bill will accept it. I was pretty horrible to Fleur."

"Well, you have to try," Ginny said softly.

He let out an explosive breath, but he nodded. "I know."

Ginny stared at the top of his red head for a moment before she asked the question she knew everyone wanted the answer to. 

"Why did you say it, Charlie? It just doesn't make sense that you could be that cruel to Bill and Fleur, especially with how often you stay at their place."

He couldn't look up at her now. She had no idea of the effect her words were having, but the guilt stabbed at him, and he finally managed to choke, "I just – I can't imagine that Dad has to know he's going to have grandchildren he'll never even get to see. It's not their fault. I know that. But – it's so bloody unfair, Ginny."

Ginny sighed. "Of course it is," she said, and her own voice grew tight. She cleared her throat. "But that's no reason to lash out at the two of them. Our lives have to go on somehow, Charlie. And I'm sure 

Dad wouldn't want us to put everything on hold while we wait for him to…" The rest of her sentence stuck in her throat, and she almost felt as if she were choking. But Charlie was hardly in the condition to notice.

The word she didn't say hung between them, and it was the unspoken that finally broke Charlie.

Ginny had stopped looking at the top of his head, so she didn't notice it when his shoulders started to shake. But his gulping breaths made her look up again, and then she knew what she had to do. Slowly, she moved down the bed, and she put her arms around him. The moment she touched him, he started crying harder, and as much as he wished he could control himself, he found himself clinging to her.

Ginny smoothed his hair and rubbed his back. It took a long time for him to calm down, and when he finally did, he pulled away, his ears flushing the usual Weasley red.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. But Ginny shook her head in exasperation.

"You all need to stop apologizing for being _human_," she exclaimed, and Charlie almost smiled. Almost. Then he turned serious.

"Ok, I won't apologize for that," he said, and he started fidgeting with his comforter when he said, "but I do need to apologize to Bill and Fleur. How on earth am I supposed to do that?" 

Ginny shrugged. "Well, I'mnot sure _how_, but I do think you need to do it _soon_. The longer this sits, the worse it'll get. You know what Bill can be like when he has time to stew."

Charlie gave an involuntary shudder and nodded. "You're right," he said. For a moment, he sat, staring at the pattern of dragons on his old sheets, and then he looked up.

"I'll go now," he said, and Ginny smiled.

"I'm glad," she said, and she got to her feet, reaching out a hand to pull him to his. Once he was standing before her, though, he surprised her by drawing her into a tight hug.

"Thanks, Gin," he muttered. "I – I'm glad you came back. I was a git, but you came anyway. Thanks."

Ginny hugged him back. "You might be a git, but you're still my brother," she mumbled into his t-shirt. Then she pulled away and fixed him with the determined stare that had cowed her brothers more often than they liked to admit. "But Bill is my brother, too, and I need for the two of you to get along. I'm pretty sure that Dad needs it too. So go fix this."

"I'm going; I'm going," he grumbled, and she followed him down the stairs. Unfortunately, they were met by the same scene Ginny had left when she'd gone up the stairs. Ron and Hermione were entwined on the couch; Ron was no longer crying, but he was pale and miserable. Ginny turned to Charlie, mouthing "Go" when she saw the look of concern on his face. She really didn't want to go to Ron now, but she knew that Charlie would delay this apology if at all possible, and that was the worst decision he could make at this moment.

He sighed but turned and walked out the door. Ginny waited until she heard the pop of his disapparation, and then she joined her brother and Hermione on the couch. A moment later, Harry walked into the living room, and Ginny realized he must have watched Charlie leave and figured it was safe to come back in. One look at Ron's face made it clear he regretted this decision, but he walked over anyway and took the seat beside Ginny.

None of them spoke for a moment, and then Ginny said, quietly but firmly, "Ron, what's going on?"

He looked up at her quickly and then just as quickly looked back down. Hermione added, "Ron, you have to tell us what happened."

Still, he said nothing. This time, he didn't even look up. 

It was the voice of the last person he expected that made him break his silence.

"Ron, please," Harry said, his voice low. "We need to know."

He looked up at last. Harry was staring at him, his eyes pleading, and he knew he would have to explain.

He let out a deep breath.

"I – I went to check on Mum and Dad when Hermione went over to the Burrow to see the two of you," he started, his voice shaky. He cleared his throat. He couldn't meet any of their eyes, but he continued to talk.

"They were – they were in their bedroom, and I knocked, but I guess neither of them heard me."

Now, suddenly, he looked at Ginny, and his eyes were suspiciously bright.

"Ginny, the last time I saw Dad cry was when Fred – when Fred – but he was in there with Mum, and he was crying, and Mum was hugging him and telling him it was all going to be all right. But it isn't, is it? It can't be. Because Bill and Fleur are going to have the first Weasley grandchild, and Dad will never even get to see the baby. How is that all right?"

It was too much. First Charlie, now Ron… Ginny's eyes were stinging, and she suddenly turned to hide her face in Harry's shirt. He wrapped his arms around her in surprise, but he held her close while she shook violently. 

Ron, meanwhile, was staring at his tough younger sister in horror.

"Ginny?" he whispered. She didn't move, but he knew he had to continue. He'd started this, and now he had to finish it. "I'm sorry," he said plaintively. "But you wanted to know. And I – I want to be happy for Bill and Fleur, but how can I be when I know how sad Dad is?"

Ginny didn't have an answer for him. No one did. But when she finally managed to get her breathing under control, she detached herself from Harry's protective grasp and looked at her older brother.

"Can we – can we just concentrate on fixing Bill and Charlie now?" she asked, and she hated how her voice trembled. She cleared her throat violently, and her voice was rough when she asked, "Can we just put everything else on hold until they're ok?"

He looked at her for a moment, and then he nodded.

"Fine," he said, his voice very low. "But once they are, we need to figure out what to do about Dad. I _can't_ ever see anything like that again."

None of them felt the need to mention that he probably wouldn't have much of a choice. Or that things were only going to get worse. It was clear from the look on his face that in spite of his words to the contrary, he was very much aware of the truth.

**A/N: I definitely struggled with this one, but if I didn't post it today, I didn't know when I would. It does answer some questions and continue in the knot-untangling process. Please read and REVIEW!**


	26. Fallout: Bill, Fleur and Everybody Else

When Bill apparated to Shell Cottage, he fully expected to find Fleur sitting on the couch in their living room. But when he entered the house, he was surprised to find the room empty. Moments later, after he'd raced through the whole house and not found a sign of his wife, his surprise changed to the sickening swoop of panic that quickly settled in the pit of his stomach. He was sitting on the couch, staring at the wall but not seeing anything, when Charlie tentatively tapped on the window.

Bill looked up with a start, hoping desperately that it was Fleur, and felt a hot rush of anger when he saw his brother's face. The shame in Charlie's eyes didn't register at all, and Bill stalked to the door, wrenching it open with far more force than he normally exhibited.

"What do you want?" he demanded angrily, his voice harsh.

Charlie winced. "Can I – can I come in?" he asked, his voice a lot quieter than it normally was, but Bill just glared at him.

"I don't have anything to say to you, Charlie." He bit off each word and was about to slam the door, but the hurt look on Charlie's face couldn't be denied. Without even knowing why, he found himself, instead, opening the door wider and silently letting his brother walk inside.

Charlie looked around the empty room, though, and turned to Bill.

"Where's Fleur?" he asked. "I need to talk to both of you."

Bill's anger came rushing back. "Well, that's a good question, Charlie. I don't _know_ where she is. She wasn't here when I got here, and she left nothing telling me where she's gone. So thanks to you, my pregnant wife is somewhere out in the world, and I have NO idea where she is!"

He was shouting, and even though he could tell that Charlie felt terrible, he couldn't stop himself. He just knew that he felt worse. 

He couldn't even look at Charlie anymore. He turned his back on him and found his way to the table. He slumped in his usual chair and buried his face in his hands. For a long time, neither of them said a word. Charlie stood where Bill had left him and watched his older brother. When he finally trusted himself to speak, he said, "Bill, I'm so sorry. I was completely out of line. I was hardly even thinking about what I was saying, but I know that's not an excuse. There's no excuse. Your news was – is — great. I'm just – my mind goes crazy whenever I think about Dad."

He forced himself to close his mouth and stop talking. And after a few minutes, Bill's muffled voice came through his hands.

"I get that, Charlie. I do. But that doesn't excuse how much you upset Fleur and how much you ruined what should have been a great moment for us. I know you're sorry. But Fleur isn't here. Your apology just – well, it isn't important right now."

He removed his hands and turned to look at his brother. Charlie's face was white, and he was biting his lip and blinking hard, but he nodded.

"I really am sorry," he repeated softly, his voice trembling.

Bill dismissed this with an abrupt nod, stood up, and walked to the door.

"I need to find Fleur," he said. "If you really are sorry, you'll help me look."

Charlie let out a shaky breath but nodded quickly. "Of course," he said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, I guess go back to the Burrow first and let the others know that we need to find Fleur. Then get everyone searching. The more of us that look for her, the better our chances are of finding her fast."

Before he could say another word, Charlie was gone, the crack of disapparation still lingering in the air. Bill stood for a moment in the middle of his living room and sighed. He knew Charlie felt bad – but he couldn't worry about that now. He had much more pressing concerns.

He decided to check Hogsmeade first.

* * *

When Charlie got back to the Burrow, he found Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny still in the living room. He paused before them, and Ginny looked at him expectantly. He grimaced and shook his head.

"I tried," he said, and she sighed. 

"What happened?" she started to ask, but Charlie cut her off.

"I'll tell you about that later. We have a bigger problem now. Fleur's gone. Bill doesn't know where she went, and he wants all of us to look for her."

Hermione and Ginny had jumped to their feet before he'd even finished speaking, and they pulled Harry and Ron up with them.

"Of course we will," Ginny said immediately. "Where should we go?"

Charlie shrugged miserably. "He left that to us to figure out. He didn't even tell me where he was going."

They stared at each other in silence, and then Harry said, "Well, she couldn't have gotten a portkey this quickly to go see her parents, so she has to still be local. Where might she go?"

Hermione said thoughtfully, "Well, she knows Hogwarts pretty well. And there's Diagon Alley. Does she know Muggle London very well?"

They all shrugged, and then Charlie said, "Where are George and Percy? We need everyone if we're going to do this."

Now everyone looked puzzled. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and then they both turned to Charlie. 

"After you went upstairs… well, George just walked out. Percy went after him. We haven't seen either of them since."

Ginny let out an explosive breath. "You haven't seen them since?" she asked, and Harry grabbed her hand when he heard the note of panic creep into her voice.

"We'll go find them," he told Charlie before Ginny could say another word, and he dragged her to the garden.

"They left the house," he told her quietly. "Let's look out here for a minute, and if they're not here, I bet we'll find them at – at the graveyard."

Ginny nodded, subdued, and she let him lead her through the orchard where they'd spent so many quiet moments. When they hadn't found her brothers after another five minutes, they exchanged a look that was equal parts dread and understanding and simultaneously apparated to the graveyard.

The first person they saw was Percy, and they walked over to him quietly. He'd heard the crack, though, and had turned to see who was there. His eyes were pained behind his glasses, but he managed to smile when he saw Ginny and reached to hug her.

When they'd released each other, she asked softly, "how long have you been here?"

Percy shrugged. "15 minutes? We walked around in the orchard for a while, but George really just wanted to come here. So I came with him. He's by the – by the grave. He wanted to be alone."

Ginny nodded resolutely. She cast Harry a questioning glance, and he motioned for her to go, indicating that he would stay with Percy. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before setting off on what was sure to be another difficult journey.

George's back was to her as she approached, and just past him was the headstone that always made her cry. This was no exception. Her eyes stung, and she sniffed involuntarily. George turned then. Ginny wasn't surprised to see the tears on his face nor he to see the tears on hers, and he opened his arms as she stumbled to him.

For a moment, they stood there, each drawing strength from the other, until Ginny finally pulled away. She drew a hand across her eyes and said, "George… I came here because we have a pretty urgent problem."

The panic that flashed in George's eyes made her hasten to add, "Dad's fine. It's Fleur. When Bill got back to Shell Cottage, she wasn't there. He doesn't know where she went, and he wants all of us looking for her."

George's expression relaxed slightly, and she couldn't blame him. But he said, "Well, let's go then," and she knew from his serious tone that he understood that this mattered too.

They rejoined Harry and Percy, and the four of them apparated back to the Burrow where Hermione was waiting. She told them breathlessly that they were set to go to Diagon Alley and scour the shops for Fleur. Charlie hadn't told them where he was going but said that she and Ron should stay at the Burrow to explain what was going on whenever their parents reemerged from their bedroom. 

Without any hesitation, Harry, Ginny, George and Percy made a quick decision and disapparated, reconvening in front of the joke shop. Quickly, George assigned each of them a destination, and they split up, their eyes looking only for a slender woman with long silvery blond hair.

Charlie was at Hogwarts. When he'd apparated into Hogsmeade, he'd caught a glimpse of Bill's scarred face inside Madame Puddifoot's, and he'd hurried along, not knowing what he would say if Bill saw him there now. He made his way inside Hogwarts' gates and hoped he wouldn't run into Hagrid. He knew he'd have a question – he always did – and Charlie didn't have time to discuss magical creatures right now.

He didn't have to think about where he should go first. He might not have been at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, but he'd heard enough about it to know where the infamous maze had been. And sure enough, when he arrived on the grounds that used to hold the high, thick hedges, he found Fleur. She was sitting on a log, and she was staring at the grass that stretched ahead of her, but he knew that the lawn wasn't what she was seeing. 

Quietly, hesitantly, he approached her, and finally, she looked up. Her expression when she saw him was unreadable, though the tears on her face were unmistakable. Charlie suddenly found that the words were stuck in his throat. But Fleur remained silent, and Charlie knew he would have to find a way to do this. He sat beside her on the log, swallowed hard, and cleared his throat.

"Fleur," he croaked, "I'm – I'm sorry. I've already told this to Bill, but I think you're the one who really deserves the apology. I was completely out of line with what I said. I'm so glad you're pregnant, and I can't wait to be Uncle Charlie. I – I wasn't thinking before. Whenever I think about Dad, my mind just kind of goes crazy, and I guess that's what happened. It isn't an excuse. I just wanted you to know that I was wrong, and I am SO sorry. I'll do anything to make up for it."

Fleur studied him then, and she realized immediately that his eyes were overly bright. She hardly realized what she was doing as she touched his arm.

"Eet ees ok, Charlie," she said softly. "Well, eet eesn't, but eet ees over now. But I do not know eef you really owe me ze apology more zan Beel. Everysing you said ees 'ow 'e ees feeling, and 'earing someone else say eet , I'm sure, made 'im feel even worse. I know you deedn't mean it, but I do not know 'ow quickly Beel weel be able to accept that."

Charlie nodded then. He couldn't believe he'd made such a mess of things when everything was already such a mess to begin with. And her touch was making it even worse. But then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes, and he knew he was done for. He hunched over and buried his face in his hands, 

hoping she wouldn't touch him again. She didn't. She merely sat and waited, and when he sat up and surreptitiously wiped his eyes, she said, " 'Ow did you know to find me 'ere?"

Charlie almost smiled, so grateful for the change of the subject, but he merely said, "Well, I figured this was the place that you'd have the most memories of apart from all of the places you've gone with Bill. It wasn't that hard."

Fleur nodded. "Good guess. We should go back now, zough. I am sure Beel ees so worried. I didn't mean to do zat to 'im, but I zhust needed ze time to sink some sings out."

Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered, "Sorry," again, but Fleur waved this off.

"Eet was not zhust you, Charlie."

He studied her for a moment and then nodded. "Let's go," he said when he realized that she wasn't going to elaborate, and they made their way off the Hogwarts grounds. He paused and looked around.

"What are you looking for?" she asked curiously, surprised he hadn't insisted that they disapparate to Shell Cottage immediately, but he muttered, "Bill was here before. I'm sure he can't have left yet. I saw him when I was on my way to find you."

Fleur looked puzzled, and as Charlie hurried her along, he told her about the impromptu search party, and she flushed.

"I deed not mean to cause all of zese problems," she said fretfully, but now it was Charlie's turn to wave her off.

"If _anyone_ caused all of these problems, it was me. So don't worry. Oi!" He shouted. He'd caught sight of Bill coming out of Honeydukes, and Bill whirled around at the noise, his worried expression replaced by astonishment when he caught sight of his wife. Completely ignoring Charlie, he swept Fleur into his arms.

"Are you all right?" he choked into her hair. He had a lump in his throat when he thought of what might have happened to her, and his grip on her waist tightened. Fleur merely hugged him back tightly.

"I am fine," she whispered. "Charlie found me."

Bill didn't respond to this. When he finally did let go, he grasped her hand and said, "Let's go back to my parents."

Fleur looked questioningly from him to his brother, but his expression had hardened, and he didn't look at Charlie. 

"I'll side along you," he told her, and then they were gone. Charlie stood there, dumbfounded, before remembering Fleur's words, and he took a deep breath before he forced himself to follow them. 

**A/N: Well, it's longer than the last few. Just a little more to untangle the rest of the knots, and then we're moving on. (I do feel some dread typing that…)**


	27. Fallout's End: Percy

**A/N: So I was away this weekend and writing in my head the entire time. And this is nothing like what I had in my head, but I think I might like it even better. I hope you all agree. All knots officially untangled in a very angsty way. It's just slightly longer than the last one, too! Please read and REVIEW! It really does mean so much.**

Somehow, once they were all back at the Burrow, they managed to hide everything that had happened from their parents. It wasn't lost on any of them, though, that this was only possible because of their mother's overwhelming concern for their father. It superseded her usual unerring sense of anything amiss among her children. And even though Bill was relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with his mother's well-intentioned intervention in his argument with his brother, Charlie was a little disappointed. His apologies had fallen on deaf ears (well, Bill's at least), and he didn't know how to fix this. All he knew was that he had to do it soon. One look at his father's wan smile and sad eyes made him weak – and he knew he couldn't do this without Bill.

But for that day, at least, it didn't look like he'd have a choice. Once dinner was over, Bill and Fleur begged off, saying she was tired, and after Molly kissed and hugged them both tightly, Fleur went to her father-in-law and tried to smile at him, but it wouldn't hold. Arthur took her hand and managed to hug her with a little of his former strength.

"This is wonderful news," he whispered in her ear. "This baby will be a wonderful addition to this family."

After a moment, she moved away and nodded at him, but she knew he could see the tears in her eyes, so she turned quickly to Bill and grasped his hand, pulling him from the Burrow.

"Let's go," she begged as the tears spilled, and he took one look at her before whispering, "Side along." There was no way she could apparate on her own in this condition, and she knew it.

Moments later, they were back at Shell Cottage, and once inside the familiar rooms, she started to relax, and she sank onto the couch.

Bill automatically went to the kitchen to fix them tea, and when he returned, she was lying down, her hands over her still-flat abdomen, but now she smiled at him. She shifted on the couch so he could sit beside her, and once he had, she pushed herself to a half-sitting position, so she could take the mug he handed her.

"So are you really feeling all right?" They were the first words out of his mouth, and she pressed the mug to her lips. She'd only reassured him of this at least 30 times, but she should have known he wasn't through asking.

She nodded as she sipped her tea, and for the first time after asking the question and receiving the same answer, he started to relax. He leaned against her feet and took a sip from his own mug.

"Fleur – where – where did he find you?"

It didn't escape her attention that he hadn't said Charlie's name. He knew it, too, but refused to meet her eyes. She sighed.

"Charlie," she said pointedly, "came to ze place where ze maze used to be. 'E said 'e knew zat eet was ze place where I would 'ave ze most memories apart from ze ones I 'ave wiz you."

Bill scowled. "How did _he_ figure _that_ out?" he asked grumpily, and she shrugged.

"Does eet matter? 'E found me, and zen – zen 'e apologized, Bill. I do not understand why you weel not talk to 'im. 'E ees obviously so sorry. I am not saying zat what 'e said was ok. Eet was not. But eet ees over now. And 'e was so very upset when 'e came to me zere…"

She trailed off as Bill's face seemed to close.

"No," he said shortly. He would say no more, it seemed, until he asked the question that she least expected.

"Why the maze?" he asked softly, and now he was looking directly into her eyes, and she couldn't seem to look away.

"Eet – eet was ze last time I 'ad to deal with losing someone I 'ad come to respect," she stammered. "Cedric – 'e wasn't exactly a friend, but 'e was a nice person who deed not deserve 'is fate. I 'ave been sinking about 'im a lot lately. I knew I'd go zere eventually. And zen today, after Charlie said all zat 'e did, I 'ad to get away. And zat is where I ended up."

Bill had stopped looking at her after she'd said fate, and she put down her mug then and pushed herself closer to him. He kept his face turned away, but after a moment, he muttered, his voice shaking, "Did you see Dad's face when we left? I don't know – _are _we supposed to be happy about this? Was – was _he_ right?"

Fleur sighed and shook her head. "Bill, you _know_ Charlie was wrong. _'E_ knows 'e was wrong. Even your parents sink zis ees good news. Eet _ees_ good news. We zhust 'ave to keep telling ourselves zat."

Bill nodded, but he still wouldn't look at her, and she put her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Our baby weel be a part of you and me, but eet weel also be a part of all of our parents. Bill, your fazzer weel always be wiz us in some way." She had to whisper the last part because her voice was getting tight, and she could feel Bill shaking slightly even while he didn't – or couldn't – answer her.

Finally, after a few minutes of utter silence, he turned around. His eyes were red, but they were dry, and he made every attempt to smile.

"You're right," he said huskily. "Our baby is a reason to celebrate."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. And he tried to forget about his fight with Charlie.

* * *

One week later found all of the Weasleys back at the Burrow. Bill still wasn't speaking to Charlie, and Charlie was looking far worse for the wear. _He_ hardly spoke to anyone, something his mother _did_ notice this time. She kept badgering him to help her in the kitchen so she could attempt to solve this problem, but he was hardly even aware of her requests. She tried to mouth to Bill, "Find out what's wrong with your brother" but was startled by his less-than-enthusiastic response. She was even more startled, though, when Percy suddenly stood up and said forcefully, "Bill, Charlie, come take a walk with me."

She wasn't the only one who was shocked. Everyone in the living room turned to look at Percy, but he merely gazed back at them calmly and waited by the door for his older brothers. Not wanting to cause a scene and raise any more questions, they followed him.

Once they were out in the orchard, Percy grabbed each of their arms without warning, and without realizing what was happening, he was apparating with them to a place where they hardly wanted to be.

"Percy, what are you _doing_?" Charlie hissed, and he moved toward his younger brother so angrily that Bill instinctively moved forward to stop him. But Percy stood his ground and merely stared back at him.

"Look at it!" he demanded, and his voice rang with a quiet authority that neither of his brothers could ignore. Reluctantly, they both turned. Fred's grave was five feet from where they were standing, but the words on the headstone were clearly visibly… _beloved brother_…

For a moment, none of them spoke. The three brothers stood there, each lost in his own thoughts, until Percy cleared his throat.

"I come here once a week," he said, and now the authority his voice had held was gone, replaced by a quiet anguish that held their attention even more forcefully. But neither of them looked at him now. Out of respect – for both Percy _and_ Fred – they kept their eyes trained on the headstone. Percy continued speaking.

"I come here once a week," he repeated. "I have so many things to say to Fred that I never had the chance to say. I know he forgave me before he died. I know he died knowing that I came back to the family. But I don't think he ever knew how sorry I was. I don't think he ever knew how much it would kill me – _kill me_ – to lose him after I'd just gotten all of you back..." His words were suddenly lost to the gasping breaths he was forcing himself to take as he tried to maintain his composure, and it was this unnatural sound that caused both Bill and Charlie to turn to him again. Without even a glance at each other, they went to him and each put an arm around him as they guided him to a bench. Once he was calmer, he said, "How could you two – you know all of this, and you still aren't speaking?"

He looked from Bill to Charlie as identical flushes crept up the backs of their necks.

"Some things – are unforgivable," Bill muttered stiffly, now refusing to look at either of them, and Charlie stared at his feet.

Percy, though, stared at Bill in disbelief. "Unforgivable? I bet you thought my behavior was unforgivable a few years ago. And you know what? It was. But Fred forgave me. If he hadn't, I don't think I would be sitting here with you right now."

Bill's face was white. "What do you – what do you mean?" He didn't know why he was asking the question when he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

Percy sat very still for a moment and took a deep breath before saying quietly, "The only thing that kept me from trying to join Fred was knowing that he'd forgiven me."

Bill's eyes filled with tears as the impact of Percy's words sank in, and he stood abruptly. He had to move away. The thought that but for Fred's forgiveness he might have lost _two_ brothers was bad enough – but here he was, willing to throw away another one just for the sake of his own stubbornness – and at a time when they were so quickly losing their father—well, it was just too much, and he couldn't handle it. Percy watched him miserably, and then he turned to where Charlie was still sitting beside him, still staring at the ground.

"Charlie," he said hoarsely. His older brother's head snapped up, and the look in his eyes let Percy know he'd heard every word of the conversation. He looked at him steadily, though, and Percy gestured to where Bill was now leaning against a tree, his head in the crook of his arm.

"He'll only talk to you," he whispered, and Charlie knew, even now, that this was true. He stood then and slowly approached his older brother. Bill, though, was so caught up in his own misery that he didn't even hear his footsteps, and it wasn't until Charlie was beside him that he even knew he'd gotten up at all.

Charlie didn't touch him, but he looked at him, and he said, "I really am sorry, Bill," and all of the fear and sorrow that Bill was trying to hide came rushing out as much as he tried to stop it. Hardly realizing what he was doing, he allowed Charlie to wrap an arm around him and lead him back to the bench even as he tried mightily – and unsuccessfully – to stop crying. He sat between Charlie and Percy for a long time before he was able to calm down, and they each had a hand on one of his shoulders while they waited.

When he was finally calm, he let out an explosive breath and tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

"Well," he said, and the embarrassment in his voice was impossible to miss, "I guess we're all taking turns falling apart these days."

Percy looked completely exasperated.

"That's _exactly_ what we're doing, mate," Percy said. "That's why we're spending so much time together, isn't it? So that when we do take turns, we can help each other out?"

Bill stared at him in amazement.

"When did you get so _smart?" _he asked, and Percy smiled.

"I like to think I've always been," he said somewhat wistfully, and now both of his brothers smiled. But it was short-lived. Because they turned to look at each other then, and Charlie asked, "Are we really all right?"

Bill stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "We are," he said, and Charlie sighed with relief. But his serious expression returned when Bill added haltingly, "I think one of the reasons I got so angry is because I can't help but think that what you said might be true. How – how _can_ we think of having a baby right now with Dad…?" he trailed off.

But Charlie surprised him by saying, "Bill, I was an absolute git, and I was absolutely wrong to say that. This baby is a wonderful thing. And even if it's making Mum and Dad a little sad, _everything's_ making them sad these days. _This baby_ is also making them happy. So there can't be _anything_ bad about that."

Bill gave him a watery smile. "I can't argue with that kind of logic," he mused, and Charlie and Percy both shook their heads firmly.

"You most certainly cannot," Percy declared, and now all three of them smiled.

"Are we ready to go back?" Charlie asked, but Bill shook his head.

"I – I just have to do one last thing," he said, and he got to his feet. As his brothers sat and watched, he approached Fred's grave and knelt for a moment at the headstone, resting his hand against the letters. They heard him whisper, "You're – you're going to be an uncle," and then they each had to turn away, their own eyes suddenly stinging.

When Bill stood, there were fresh tears on his face, but he brushed them away quickly.

He cleared his throat. "I'm ready now," he said, and without another word, the three brothers went back to the Burrow.


	28. Change in Plans

_A/N at the end again!_

For the next two weeks, the Weasley kids kept up their system of sending someone to the Burrow for dinner every night and then all convening there on the weekends. But it was the second weekend after the pregnancy announcement when everything started to change.

They were sitting in the kitchen, eating dinner, and everyone was talking, but it wasn't the usual Weasley cacophony. For the first time, Arthur had not joined them at the table. He wasn't far, just in the living room, lying down on the couch, but his absence made Molly's usual delicious food taste like sawdust. Nobody had much of an appetite, and nobody had much to say.

"So we have another appointment at St. Mungo's tomorrow," Molly said suddenly. Her voice was quiet, but she looked intently at Ron as she added, "Do any of you want to come?"

They all looked at Ron, and none of them could fail to notice the way his freckles stood out in stark contrast to his sudden pallor. His mouth moved, but no words came out, and it was a long moment before George took pity on him and said quietly, "I'll go with you and Dad, Mum."

She turned to him in surprise and smiled. "Well, thank you, George. The appointment is at 10am. Do you want to just meet us there?"

He nodded and then cast a quick glance at Ron who looked as if he were finally able to breathe again. He knew he'd need to address this with him at some point – but not now. By mutual consent, they dropped the topic of the appointment.

Dinner finished rather quickly because they were all eager to rejoin Arthur, and he smiled at them when they flooded back into the living room. He was still lying on the couch, propped up on a few pillows, and he shifted so Molly could sit beside him. She touched her hand to his cheek, and he took it and kissed it lightly. For a moment, they looked at one another, and Molly was once again struck with the same thought. _This can't be happening. _

She shook herself briskly. This was not the time to give into such thoughts with their children sitting all around them.

"So what are everyone's plans for the week?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound cheery. She didn't need to be told how miserably she failed.

Harry jumped to the rescue this time. "Well, Ginny has a match on Thursday, and Ron and I are going," he offered. Molly smiled at him gratefully but then looked questioningly at Hermione.

"You aren't going along with them?"

Hermione's smile was pained. "I don't … _get_ Quidditch." She sounded almost distressed, and now everyone laughed.

"It's ok, Hermione." Percy's voice was soothing. "I've never loved it too much either."

Charlie cuffed his younger brother lightly on the back of his head.

"Of course you haven't. You were traumatized too much as a kid when Mum left you to babysit, and the twins wouldn't stop chasing you around on their brooms."

Percy turned scarlet; George coughed to cover a laugh, and Molly's voice ratcheted up several notches.

"They did _what_?!"

Now Bill was laughing too. "It's ok, Mum," he said calmly. "It wasn't _that_ bad. You'd left Percy home to mind the twins one day – you must've taken Ron and Ginny with you – and they—well, they got a little out of hand. Percy flooed me and Charlie. We came over and took care of everything."

Molly turned to Percy, her eyes wide with astonishment. "And you never told me what happened? You flooed your brothers instead of me?"

Percy shrugged, but now he was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "It wasn't such a big deal, Mum. They just – wouldn't come down. That's all."

Now George was looking uncomfortable too. "Perce?" he asked, and his voice was unnaturally hesitant. "Why _didn't_ you tell Mum? I thought you always tattled on – on us?"

For the first time since the conversation had started, Percy turned to look at George, and the look in his eyes was unreadable.

"Because I wanted Mum to trust me with the two of you, and I wanted the two of you to trust me. That's why."

They stared at each other then, and an understanding passed between them that surprised everyone. Molly suddenly sniffed.

"Oh, Mum," George groaned, turning from Percy and moving to the couch so he could put an arm around his mother. "Don't start that now."

She tried to smile, but her eyes were shiny.

"I'm not starting anything," she tried to declare, but the waver in her voice betrayed her. George squeezed her to his side tightly and was about to make a joke, but then he caught a look at his father. Arthur was watching him, and he had a slight smile of his own on his face.

"What is it, Dad?" he asked, his joke forgotten, and almost as one, everyone turned to look at Arthur.

"I like watching all of you take care of your mother," he said quietly. Hearing his voice suddenly made them all aware that this was the first thing he'd said since before dinner, and the loss of its usual timbre was suddenly, painfully clear.

George's smile faltered as he continued to look at Arthur, but he made a determined effort not to lose it. His grip on his mother tightened.

"Of course, Dad," he said lightly. "We've always taken care of Mum. Don't know where she'd be without us."

Charlie tried to laugh, to help lighten the mood, but it caught in his throat, and he found he couldn't make a sound. Bill's short chuckle sounded too much like a strangled sob, and the rest of them didn't even try. They merely sat there, some of them looking at their parents, the others staring at their feet.

But Arthur spoke again. "I know you've all set up this – system, I suppose, to make sure that your mother and I aren't alone at night. And I appreciate it. We both do. But I think we need to change it now." He shifted again, this time moving his hand to his head, and now Molly turned to him, her eyes anxious, but he waved her away, trying to smile.

"I'm ok," he told her quietly, but he knew he wasn't convincing her. He continued. "I think your mother and I both agree that it would be better if we could see all of you more times a week than just one of you each day. So why don't you all start coming for dinner on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays? You can keep coming on Sundays as well, of course."

They all glanced at each other quickly then, and the true message behind Arthur's words wasn't lost on any of them. That much was clear in all of their faces. But they nodded slowly, each of them making sure to look only at Arthur and not at Molly or too closely at each other.

Arthur smiled at them. "I'll want to talk to each of you individually, of course," he said softly, "but there's time for that still."

There was a collective small sigh of relief. _There's time for that still…_ The words echoed in each of their minds, and the relief was mirrored in all of their faces. But Molly's next words wiped the relief clean from each face.

"I think it's time for you all to go now," she said briskly, and they were suddenly forced to their feet. Molly had almost shoved them out the door when Ron complained.

"Mum, it's only 7:30," he nearly whined, and Molly turned her fiercest glare on him.

"Your father goes to sleep at 8," she said stiffly. She was prepared to go back to her husband then, but she couldn't ignore the stricken look that suddenly appeared on her youngest son's face. She reached out to touch his cheek gently even as she turned to the others and added softly, "He's been going to bed earlier for the past couple of weeks. We'll – we'll know more after St. Mungo's tomorrow."

Now none of them wanted to stay. They each kissed Molly quickly as they left, and the group of them had just reached the boundary at which they could disapparate when George suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"Come back to the flat with me for a bit, will you?"

Ron couldn't say no. He cast a quick glance at Hermione who nodded for him to go, and then George turned to the others.

"I'll send my Patronus once I leave the hospital. I expect it won't be until 11 or so, though, so don't worry if you don't hear right away."

Bill, Fleur and Charlie nodded, and then they were gone. Charlie was staying with them again; it almost seemed to the rest of them as if their mysterious reconciliation had intensified the bond between the two oldest brothers. (When Bill, Charlie and Percy had gotten back from the graveyard that day, it was clear to the rest of their siblings that a lot had gone on – that Bill, even, had been _crying_ – but not one of them would say a word. Bill only told Fleur bits and pieces much later.)

Harry and Hermione left next, leaving Ron, George and Percy standing alone at the gate. Percy looked at the other two and said, "Well, I'd better be getting back inside. Mum still worries that I'll catch cold. You'd think she'd have more to worry about now."

He tried for a wry smile, and George and Ron tried to smile back, but none of them succeeded. Percy hesitated a moment before setting off again for the Burrow, but he'd only gone a couple of feet when George said, "Thanks, Perce."

Percy turned back, his eyes confused behind his spectacles, and George added, "For – for not telling Mum that day. Fr—Fred and I – we knew it then. And we appreciated it. I – I still do."

Percy tried to smile again, but this time he failed even more miserably.

"I meant it, you know," he said, his voice growing slightly strained. "I wanted the two of you to trust me."

"We did," George tried to reassure him, but his own voice was scratchy. He cleared his throat, which didn't do much. After another moment, he said even more quietly, "I do."

For a long instant, they stared at each other, and then Percy nodded abruptly and turned to go back to the house. Ron noticed, though, that he reached up to wipe his eyes as he went. He turned to George, who was watching Percy, a far-off look on his face.

"George?" he asked, and now his older brother looked startled.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Let's go."

Moments later, they found themselves in the flat above the joke shop. George gestured for Ron to take a seat on the couch, which he did, and George moved into the kitchen.

"You have a choice," he called. "Fire whiskey or… fire whiskey."

Ron snorted. "I'll have some butter beer?"

"Smart arse," George called back. "Fire whiskey it is."

They settled themselves on the couch, and Ron was enjoying the pleasant warming sensation in the back of his throat, when George asked, bluntly, "So why didn't you want to go to the hospital with Mum and Dad?"

Ron almost choked, coughing so hard that the fire whiskey threatened to make a very unpleasant exit through his nostrils. Once the fit had passed, though, he sighed.

"I – I don't want to go back there," he said. He hoped it would be enough. He knew it wouldn't.

"Mum was expecting you to go, you know," George said. "I said I would because I didn't want her to feel like we were abandoning her and Dad. You don't want her to think that, do you?"

Ron's ears turned red, but his eyes took on the obstinate look George knew only too well.

"That's not fair," he said flatly. "You _know_ I don't want her to think that. It's just – well, it's too hard, all right? I feel like – I feel like I'm losing my mind when I'm there. I can't think straight. The only thing I can think about is how Dad doesn't have that much time left, and then I think about what it will be like without him, and then –" He suddenly jumped to his feet and started to pace. George watched him in a mild state of alarm. It turned to one of genuine concern, though, when Ron finally stopped and faced him.

"I can't think of what it will be like without him, George." His voice shook terribly, and he rubbed furiously at his eyes. "It's bad enough that… well, I just can't do that again."

He turned away then, his head hanging, and he was facing the door, so he didn't know it when George got off the couch and slowly approached him.

"Ron," he said softly, "I'm sorry. I – I didn't know. I'll go with them every time if you want. I – I won't make you do that again."

Ron wouldn't look at him, but he nodded jerkily. "Thanks," he managed to choke.

"Ron?" George said then, his voice even gentler than it usually was. Ron didn't turn, but George knew he was listening. He took a deep breath before continuing. "It's ok to feel bad about this. I don't mean you have to force yourself to go to St. Mungo's or anything, but if you need to cry – well, we all do. I'll understand. I – I won't say anything."

He didn't need to say anything more. Ron's voice was tight as he tried to say, "I don't need to cry," but the tears in his eyes betrayed him.

George put a hand on his shoulder, and then Ron gave up. He let his older brother guide him back to the couch as he started to cry.

"I'm sorry," he kept saying over and over, but George simply put his arms around him and waited until he was finished.

Once he was, he pulled away, and his ears were flaming. George sighed.

"It really is all right, you know. If anyone deserves your tears now – don't you think it's Dad?"

Ron looked at him for a long moment, and then he nodded. "You're right," he said, his voice subdued. "Of course he does. I just don't want to do this now – when there will be plenty of time – after – after he…" He choked and couldn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. George wrapped his arms around his younger brother then and held on tightly. And even though he was sobbing uncontrollably, Ron could feel George shaking slightly too, and he suddenly felt more understood than he had in months.

**A/N: Well, we're definitely off in a new and even darker direction. This chapter came to me much more quickly than I thought it would, though finishing it was a whole other story. I do love Ron so. I had to fit him in again. Please read and REVIEW!!**


	29. Updated Diagnosis

_A/N at the end once again._

When George blearily opened his eyes the next morning, it was already 10 o'clock. He lay there for a moment, wondering bemusedly why this particular time was ringing a bell, when he realized – he was going to be very, very late for his father's appointment. He hurtled out of bed and rushed around the room, attempting to get ready as quickly as possible. He knew why he'd overslept – Ron, who hadn't wanted to have that conversation in the first place, had had a hard time leaving the flat when they'd finished talking. Seeing his generally oblivious little brother in that many kinds of pain had drained George more than he cared to admit, and he'd fallen into bed the moment Ron had gone, but it had taken him an obscenely long time to fall asleep. He was wide awake until long after 2 in the morning, wondering not for the first time how they were all going to get through this.

By the time George made it over to St. Mungo's, it was half 10, and his parents were not in the waiting room. When he breathlessly gave his name to the witch sitting at the receptionist desk, she sighed, pushed back her chair, and motioned for him to follow her back. He pushed his way through the swinging doors, and when they got to the closed door in question, she indicated silently that he should wait while she knocked. There was a muffled noise; she opened the door a crack, mouthed something to the person behind it and then stepped back to allow George into the room. He pushed his way past her impatiently, an apology on his lips – and then he froze.

Molly and Arthur were sitting in the two seats closest to where he was standing. Arthur didn't look up at George when he walked in, but Molly did, and George could see the tears swimming in her eyes even as she tried desperately for a small smile.

"Hello, dear," she said, and her voice was quieter than George could ever remember hearing it before. He tried to smile back as he pulled up the chair that was on the other side of his mother, but before he could say hello, she grabbed his hand tightly. He looked at her in surprise, but she didn't look at him again. Instead, she turned to the healer and said, "This is our son. This is George."

George shifted slightly so he, too, was looking at the healer, and she looked back at him gravely. "Hello, George. I'm Healer Jones. It's nice to meet you."

He nodded. "I'm sorry I'm late," he managed to say now, but his voice was unsteady, and he bit his lip. He stared at the healer as if willing her to speak. If she didn't, he'd have to look at his father, and – and the thought scared him. He didn't know why, but he knew that if he did – well, this was already real. But he had a feeling it was about to become terrifying.

He was right. Healer Jones sighed and then said, "Let me sum up for you what I just told your parents. After your father's examination this morning, we got back the results, and we have a better idea of the progress of the disease right now as well as a time frame. I'm afraid – I'm afraid the news is worse than I'd anticipated."

George swallowed hard, but he nodded for her to continue, trying to pretend his grip on his mother's hand hadn't tightened and not vice versa.

"I told your parents this already – there isn't much more than a month left – two at most. And there are only a few more weeks where your father will really be lucid. The tumor is growing at an incredibly rapid pace, and once it reaches a certain size, it will interfere with his memory. I can't promise he'll remember you or your siblings. I …" She stopped speaking. George was blinking hard now, and all of the color had drained from his face.

She stood up and came around her desk, crouching before him to put a hand on his shoulder.

"George? Do you need a glass of water?"

He stared at her for a moment, unseeing, and Molly turned to him.

"George?" she echoed. "Healer Jones asked if you wanted…"

He turned to her. "I don't want _water_," he rasped. He pulled his hand from hers and jumped to his feet. Without looking at his father – because that made sense, didn't it? that the last thing he could bear right now was looking at his _father_, for Merlin's sake? – he ran.

* * *

Hours later, Bill and Fleur met up outside of Gringotts. They looked at each other expectantly, and then Bill said, "George – he contacted you, right?"

Fleur shook her head slowly. "'E did not. I sought 'e was going to contact _you_."

For a moment, they stared at each other, and then Bill said slowly, "I think we need to get to my parents."

Fleur nodded and took his arm. Within moments, they were standing in the garden, and Bill was squaring his shoulders before setting off for the back door.

They walked into a sight that stunned both of them. Molly was sitting alone in the kitchen. Her head was buried in her arms, and she was shaking with sobs, but she wasn't making a sound. Bill felt his stomach plummet to somewhere near his feet, and he had to clear his throat before he whispered, "Mum?"

She looked up with a start, wiping her eyes hurriedly.

"Oh, oh, hello Bill. Fleur, come in and sit down."

She stood up quickly, seemingly about to bustle off and make tea, when Bill grabbed her hand. At his touch, she froze. She didn't look at him, but both he and Fleur could see from the way her shoulders slumped that she wouldn't be able to move another inch.

"Come sit," Bill said gently, and he pulled her back to the table.

Fleur moved to the stove to make the tea as Bill and his mother sat side by side. For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Bill asked, "Where's Dad?"

Molly's mouth trembled, but she said, "He's – he's upstairs. He's lying down."

Bill paused before asking the next question. "Is he – how is he feeling? What did the healer say today?"

Molly shook her head. She didn't answer. She couldn't. Every time she replayed the words in her mind, their meaning became even more incomprehensible. As Bill watched her struggle to speak, though, the ever-present knot of fear in his stomach tightened.

"Mum?" he asked, and he hated how scared he knew he sounded. He cleared his throat again. "Mum, you have to tell us what she said."

She couldn't look at her son. She'd already seen what these words did to one of them, and she stared straight ahead as she relayed the latest news to her oldest child. When she finished, the silence in the kitchen was broken only by the ticking of the clock. Bill glanced at it now, almost involuntarily. Arthur's hand was pointing to… he blinked. _Mortal peril_. The last time any of their hands had pointed to mortal peril, Fred had…

No. Bill shook his head as if this would rid it of reality, and now Fleur was hurrying back to the table, three steaming mugs floating before her. They landed gently on the table, and Fleur sat across from her husband and his mother. She tried not to look directly at Bill, though. She'd heard every word Molly had said, and she knew that one look from her would be all it would take for Bill to lose control. She also knew that _that_ was the last thing he wanted.

"Molly, what can we do?" she asked instead, and now her mother-in-law turned to her, blinking hard.

"George," she said, her voice wavering for the first time, and Bill realized then that he hadn't asked her yet why George hadn't sent his patronus. One look at her face, though, told him that he wouldn't like the answer.

"He got to the appointment late, so Healer Jones filled him in on everything I just told you, but – but he couldn't handle it. He ran from the hospital. At first I thought he'd come back here, but he didn't. I was going to floo you at work, but I got caught up here helping your father. Bill – I haven't heard from him in hours now. Could you –"

It was the one thing he _could_ do, and he leapt to his feet. "Fleur, will you stay here with Mum and Dad?"

It was hardly a question, and she nodded immediately. He leaned across the table to kiss her quickly and then gave his mother a quick hug.

"I'll be back as soon as I find him," he promised. "I have some ideas of where to look."

And before either of them could say another word, he was gone.

* * *

Neither Percy nor Ron had heard from George. Charlie hadn't either. Bill couldn't bring himself to repeat the news his mother had told him, so he told each of them that they should get to the Burrow as quickly as possible and that he'd meet them back there. He didn't offer to let them help him find George. And after one look at him, none of them asked. He needed this responsibility, and they all knew it. (He knew it too. It kept him from thinking. He did not want to think.)

George wasn't at the shop or his flat. He wasn't in the Leaky Cauldron. He wasn't in the Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head. He wasn't at the memorial wall at Hogwarts or what everyone had come to think of as the Weasley twins' hallway or even at Fred's grave. Bill was starting to panic and was staring around the grounds of Hogwarts when a Stag Patronus came galloping up to him.

"Bill." It was Harry's voice, and Bill blinked in surprise. "Ron told me you're looking for George. He's – he's here. At Grimmauld Place. He's not saying anything, though. Come when you can."

For a moment, Bill stared in disbelief at the Patronus. Then, he hurried from the grounds, apparating the moment he stepped outside the gates.

When he walked into the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, he marveled for a moment at how different it looked now. But then Harry came rushing up to him, and his face was more serious than Bill could ever remember seeing it.

"He's been here all day," he said in a low voice. "I had no idea that none of you knew where he was. He hasn't said a word to me. If I'd known …" he trailed off when Bill grasped his arm.

"It's ok, Harry. Thanks for letting me know now. I'm just – I'm glad he's safe."

He looked toward the living room and then back at Harry. "Is he in there?"

Harry shook his head, and now he looked slightly confused. "He's – he's in the kitchen. Has been all day. Hasn't eaten a thing, but he won't get out of the chair."

Bill didn't say another word to Harry then, merely walked the rest of the way to the kitchen. He knew that Harry wouldn't follow.

When he walked into the room, George didn't look up. He was staring at the table though Bill would have been surprised if he were even seeing it at all. Slowly, cautiously, he took the seat across from him.

After a long silence, he said softly, "George?"

His younger brother looked up, but it was as if he were in a deep trance. He stared at Bill, but he didn't say a word.

Bill shifted uncomfortably. He spoke again. "George, we're all worried about you. Mum, especially. She said you disappeared hours ago."

Still, George stared at him. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. When he opened it again, he said words that made very little sense to his older brother.

"When we were in this room – he was ok."

Bill stared at him. "When you were – what?"

George shook his head, clearly frustrated. "When we were in this room – when Mum was at St. Mungo's with Dad – Dad was – he was ok. Mum came back, and she said '_He's going to be all right. He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later.'"_ He was still looking at Bill, but now Bill knew for sure he wasn't seeing him. He was right. George's next words made it very clear who he _was_ seeing, in fact. "Fred – Fred couldn't take it. He sat down – in that chair you're in now. He covered his face because he didn't want Ron or Ginny to see, but I knew he was crying. I almost was too. So was Ron. But – but what was there to cry about? Nothing. Dad was ok. There was nothing to cry about…"

And Bill knew that George was completely unaware of the tears he could see welling up in his eyes, so he stood up very slowly and came around the table. When he sat down next to George and put his arm around him, George blinked. For a moment, it seemed as if he weren't going to say anything else, but then he shouted, "When we were in this room, he was OK!" He looked at Bill, and Bill looked at him, and then, without any further warning, George broke.

Bill pulled him into his arms as he started crying, and he held him tightly as he tried to stop, but the harder he tried, the worse it got. It was a long time before he was calm enough to pull away. When he did, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and leaned back in his chair. He sighed.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "It's just – well, you spoke to Mum, obviously."

Bill nodded. "She told me what happened this morning," he said, and George winced.

"I was trying to do the right thing," he tried to explain, but his voice shook. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I – I wanted to help Ron. He told me that it was too hard for him. I thought I could do it. But I couldn't. I ran, Bill. I ran, and I left Mum and Dad sitting there."

George's face was scarlet, and he couldn't look at his brother any longer. He was staring at the table when Bill's reasonable voice said, "Did any of us expect the news to be like this?"

"Well, no but.."

Bill cut him off. "Have any of us struck you as the model of stability these days?"

George's lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. "Not exactly, but…"

Bill cut him off once again. "Enough with the 'but's. Stop apologizing. It sounds rotten, yes, when you put it that way – but it wasn't that way. You ran out because you love Dad too much to be able to listen to news like that and just take it. And he knows it, and Mum knows it too. So just – stop. Stop beating yourself up over this. We have too many other things to worry about right now."

George glanced at him for a moment, and then he nodded, but Bill could tell there was more he needed to say. He waited patiently, and then George said in a small voice, "He does know, right? How much we all love him?"

Bill had to swallow hard against a lump in his throat. He nodded before realizing that George was looking at the table again.

"Yes," he managed to say. "He knows."

The brothers looked at each other then, and George got to his feet. After a moment, Bill did the same.

"Let's go back to Mum and Dad."

George said it, and Bill permitted himself a small sigh of relief. He wished for a moment that he could think of this as a crisis averted, but he realized immediately that he knew better. These breakdowns, these moments of temporary insanity – these were quickly becoming their way of life.

**A/N: Firstly, some of the words in this chapter were taken directly from page 423 in Order of the Phoenix. Secondly, if this chapter or any future chapters make you cry, all blame lies with Lisa, little0bird. A fantastic author in her own right (who will also make you cry), she has given me some of my new saddest ideas. She's generously agreed to take the blame for tears. (Ok, I'll take some of it too.) Thirdly, Dodger Gilmore – you knew George would break down next. I hope Bill as comforter worked for you. And finally – Katy, I want it on record that I was MUCH nicer than you are being right now because of the speediness of this update. Ok, that's all. PLEASE read and REVIEW!**


	30. Symptoms

_A/N at the end once again, but heads up: the sadness continues._

Once they knew George was ok and that Bill was with him, everyone who lived elsewhere left the Burrow. Ron went back to Grimmauld Place; Fleur and Charlie went back to Shell Cottage. Percy, meanwhile, went up to his old bedroom. He would never admit it to his brothers, but it was almost comforting living at home again even in spite of the circumstances that had led him there.

Molly and Arthur were alone in their living room for the first time in weeks that either of them could remember, and they looked at one another in a silence that was heavy with unspoken fear. Arthur was sitting in his usual armchair, and Molly was sitting on the couch, and she drew in her breath and let it out slowly.

"We need to talk about the appointment today," she said quietly.

Arthur looked at her for a long moment, studying her face, before he nodded.

"We do," he agreed, but then he grimaced and put his hand to his head. "But before we do, I think – I think I need to lie down."

Molly felt as if she were choking, but she merely took his arm and helped him out of the chair, gently leading him to the couch, where he resettled himself with a sigh. She stayed beside him, and for a moment, they simply stared into each other's eyes.

"Molly," he said, and the fear in his voice was unmistakable. He paused before continuing. "You heard what she said. Soon, I won't know…"

Before he could finish that terrifying sentence, though, she leaned forward and kissed him. When she moved away, she whispered, "It's going to be ok. No matter what happens, no matter how hard it gets, we will all be here, and we will always know you love us. And _you _will never forget us. The tumor might, but that's not you."

Arthur just stared at her, awed as always by the strength she seemed to possess in boundless supply.

"You're going to be ok," he said, and the conviction in his voice sent a chill down her spine. She shook her head slightly, and his eyes were understanding even as he nodded, grabbing her hand and holding it tightly.

"You will," he insisted, but before he could say any more, Molly turned away.

He went quiet as her shoulders started shaking, and he felt his own eyes fill. He waited until he thought his voice would be stable enough to speak, and then he said, "Mollywobbles?"

It didn't work. Her shoulders only shook more violently, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as his head ached. He put his hands on her shoulders, then, and Molly instinctively turned to him, burying her face in his shirtfront.

"I'm sorry," she managed to choke out, but he simply smoothed her hair, wondering how holding her in his arms today didn't seem much different from the first time he'd done it over 30 years earlier. She fit 

just as perfectly as she had when they were at Hogwarts, and the thought cause the lump in his throat to swell suddenly. His tears were dripping onto the top of her head for some time before she felt them, and then she pulled back so suddenly that he didn't have time to dry them.

They looked at each other, and Molly said, her voice choked, "I'll never be ok without you. I'll never – I'll never be ready for this."

Arthur found he couldn't even answer her, and now she put her arms around him as he started to shake. When it seemed as though he would never stop, she forced herself to say, "I don't want you to be in pain, Arthur. I mean it when I say I won't be ok, but I will survive. The kids will see to it."

He let out a shaky breath then. Pulling away from her, sniffling, he drew his hand across his eyes.

"They will, won't they?" he asked, and his voice was subdued, but Molly could see that the thought had comforted him. She wanted to kick herself now for upsetting him so much, but he saw that in her eyes, and took her hand again, shaking his head carefully.

"Don't," he implored her. "I don't want you to pretend, and I know you too well for you to even try it anyway. This – this isn't your fault, anyway. It was – it was that appointment. I wish I could have left with George."

Molly nodded but stayed silent. Arthur hardly noticed as he continued speaking.

"I know I told the kids last week that there was time. Apparently, I was wrong. And I want to make sure I say what I need to before it's too late." His voice was practical and reasonable, but the slight tremor under it caused Molly to squeeze his hand tightly. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and was forced to look away from her for a moment. When he turned back, his eyes were haunted, but he said, "I'll have things I'll need to say to you, too, you know."

Molly was afraid to speak now. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, "Whatever you want to do will be fine."

It couldn't have been clearer to either of them that nothing was further from the truth, but this _was_ their truth now. Arthur pulled her into his arms again, and once she was comfortably back in her rightful place, he whispered into her hair, "I love you Molly Prewett. I always have, and I always will."

Molly's tears spilled over again even as she nodded against his chest, but she didn't answer. She couldn't.

* * *

All of the Weasleys convened for dinner at the Burrow on Wednesday and Friday, and none of them noticed much of a difference in Arthur. It wasn't until their Sunday lunch that this newest diagnosis suddenly seemed terrifyingly real.

Arthur was still in bed when Bill, Fleur and Charlie showed up at 11. He was still in bed when Ron, Hermione and George showed up at 11:30. And he was still there when Harry and Ginny showed up at 12. Molly was in the kitchen. She sent them all into the living room with a tight smile and a request to stay as quiet as possible. It was an easy request to satisfy considering they were all at a loss for words.

George was the first to break the silence.

"He was ok on Friday," he mumbled. He wasn't looking at any of his siblings when he said it. He was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest, and he leaned his head against them.

No one answered. There didn't seem to _be_ an answer. And then… "No. He wasn't."

It was Percy. He'd come down the stairs to find them all there, and it didn't escape any of their notice that he looked completely unlike his usual self. His normally neat hair was now unkempt, and his clothes were rumpled and unmatching. His siblings all glanced at each other quickly, and then Bill said, his voice as soothing as he could make it, "What are you talking about Perce? We were here. He sat with us at dinner. He talked about the ministry. He seemed all right."

But Percy shook his head more vigorously. "He _wasn't,_" he insisted, and a slight note of hysteria crept into his voice. Bill and Charlie glanced at each other then, and Charlie said softly, "Why don't you come join us? You can tell us what you mean."

But Percy was clearly too agitated to sit, and it seemed as if he only heard half of what Charlie had said.

"He's not all right," he said again, and now his voice started to rise.

"Shhh!" They all said it, and he glanced toward the kitchen then. He shook his head.

"It won't make a difference," he informed them. There was a tinge, suddenly, of his old pompous self as he added, "The sleep won't make him feel any better as much as Mum thinks it will."

Ron spoke suddenly, and his voice shook when he said, "Maybe it will."

Percy looked at him then, and the arrogance just – whooshed out of him. He shook his head again, but now he sighed, and his own voice quavered when he said, "I wish it would too, Ron."

Ron stared at his older brother for a moment until he was forced to look away, and Hermione took his hand then. They were sitting side by side on the floor, and he automatically moved closer to her. She looked at Percy and tried to stay calm as she asked, "Why do you say he's not all right?"

Her focus helped. Percy held her eyes as he said, "Because he isn't. Because he's sleeping all the time. Because he didn't – he didn't know –" He couldn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. The color drained from all of his siblings' faces then, and Ginny spoke for the first time since she'd arrived at the Burrow.

"When – when did that happen, Percy?"

She was sitting bolt upright on the couch, and she seemed calmer than the rest of them. Harry looked at her then with so much admiration in his eyes that she suddenly found herself leaning against him, but she continued to look at Percy. He was suddenly speechless, though. He was looking at her, and his mouth was opening, but no words were coming out.

She sat back up. "Percy?" she asked. But it was as if he'd been struck dumb.

She stood then and approached him slowly. He watched her progress, and when she reached him, he suddenly choked, "Yesterday."

It was only word, but it took everything out of him, and if Ginny hadn't been standing before him, none of them knew what would have happened next. But one moment, he was standing stock still before her, and the next, he was in her arms, and he was crying.

Her own eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears as she held onto him tightly. After a moment, she was relieved when Bill and Charlie joined them, each of them patting Percy on the back. Neither of them seemed to be able to find any words, though, and Ginny was sure that each of them was blinking back tears as well. But they didn't look at her, and she tried not to look at them.

When Percy finally managed to stop sobbing, he took several deep breaths and then slowly detached himself from his sister. For a moment, he looked around the room, and then he whispered, "I'm sorry. I was going to tell you what happened, but – but then I heard you saying that he seemed ok on Friday, and it's just – well, he's not. Mum sent me to bring him soup, and he didn't – he didn't know me. He didn't know who I was."

The fear that gripped the room then was only broken by Harry's cough. No one turned to look at him, though. In fact, none of them looked at each other at all.

After a long time, George broke the silence again. "I'm sorry, Percy," he nearly whispered. He didn't look at him, and Percy continued to stare at his feet, but George said, "I guess – I guess I just wanted to pretend that this sleeping late was something new. I don't – I don't _want _this to be just another symptom."

Percy finally looked at him, and his lips twisted as he said, "I don't want that either, George."

Further conversation was prevented by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Molly came darting in front the kitchen then and raced to meet Arthur as he walked unsteadily into the room in his pajamas and robe. He smiled at her and then turned to include his children as well.

"Sorry I'm only coming down now," he said to them, and even though he really _didn't_ sound any different than he had just two days earlier, they were all suddenly aware of the weakness in his voice that hadn't been there the previous week. But they smiled back.

"Hi Dad." Ginny spoke first as she moved to hug and kiss him, and then she and her mother helped him toward the couch. Harry jumped up to move out of the way, and Arthur smiled at him.

"It's good to see you, Harry," he said as his wife and daughter helped him put his feet up and settled him as comfortably as they could manage against the pillows. Harry tried to smile back as he said, "it's good to see you too, Mr. Weasley," his voice unnaturally low.

But even at the sound of Harry's voice, Arthur's smile didn't falter. He continued to look at him as he said, "I think it's time you called me Arthur, don't you?"

Harry stared at him for a moment, and then he nodded. "Ok," he said huskily. "Thanks."

He mumbled something about using the loo as he bolted from the room. Ginny cast her mother a quick glance, and after Molly nodded imperceptibly, Ginny rushed after him.

She got to the second landing when she found him. He was sitting cross legged, his back to the wall, his head hanging, and when she crouched in front of him, he couldn't bring himself to look up, but he whispered, "We need to move up our wedding. He – he told me to call him Arthur. I want – I want to be able to call him Dad."

Ginny swallowed hard. "Ok," she whispered back. "Ok."

**A/N: Katy, I hope the Percy focus here makes up for my so-called nagging. But I saw Cassandra's review, and she's on my side too. So you know what that means… it's your turn! In any case, I hate how sad I'm making myself. And there's still so much more to go. Please read and REVIEW!!**


	31. Guilt

Harry and Ginny knew they would need to speak to Molly before making any announcements to the rest of the family, and they determined to help her clean up after lunch so they would have a chance to speak privately. While they were making these decisions, the rest of the Weasleys sat in the living room and tried to talk about anything that wouldn't provoke anymore emotion. They'd all had enough emotion for quite a while.

But George couldn't stop watching Percy. He didn't know why at first. He just kept glancing over at him, and he continued to watch him intermittently all through lunch. Percy hardly noticed, so George felt free to continue staring at him as he tried to figure out what was causing him to do so. It wasn't until they were back in the living room – Harry and Ginny still in the kitchen with Molly – that he had it. It was Percy's eyes. There was a look in them that George had only seen once before, and recognizing it now sent a chill down his spine. The last time George had seen him look this way, it had been immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts.

But George surprised even himself when he turned to Arthur and said, "I'm thinking of staying here tonight. That ok with you?"

Arthur smiled, and George suddenly knew that _anything _any of them wanted these days wouldbe ok. He swallowed hard, wondering, as he always did, what Fred would say right now. He would probably know the perfect joke to lighten the mood – but maybe he wouldn't, George thought. Maybe even Fred would lose his sense of humor now. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, and he stared down at his feet. He couldn't –he couldn't be _grateful _not to have Fred here – could he?

When Fred died, he'd had the thought once or twice that his twin would be ashamed to see him as broken as he was – that Fred would _never _have taken his death as hard as he was taking Fred's. But he'd never _really_ been glad that Fred wasn't there to see it. He would have given any amount of Fred taking the mickey out of him just to have him back again.

But – he had to admit now as he looked at Percy again – Fred was being spared this anguish. And anguish was the only way to describe the look in Percy's eyes. He wasn't even looking at the rest of them now, and George knew that he _had_ to stay at the Burrow that night.

"I'll tell Mum when she comes back," he told his father, and Arthur smiled again. He didn't say anything, though, and it struck George that he was quieter than he used to be. He sighed. It was time to think about something else. He turned to Fleur.

"So have you two come up with any names?" he asked, and Bill groaned.

"Don't ask her," he said. "This is all she's been thinking about lately. And I can't pronounce half of the names she's come up with."

Fleur stuck her tongue out at Bill and then smiled sweetly at George.

"Do not listen to your bruzzer," she said calmly. "I 'ave come up wiz beautiful names, and once Beel stops being so stubborn, 'e weel admeet zat, and we weel 'ave a name for our baby."

Bill rolled his eyes, but then he laughed.

"I know she's going to win," he informed George, and he turned to include his father and the others in the conversation. "I'm just holding out as long as I can."

Fleur laughed then, and she leaned into her husband as he put his arm around her.

"Well, do you have a baby name book?" Hermione asked, and Fleur's eyes lit up. Bill groaned again.

"Hermione!" he said in exasperation. "We've gotten this far without anyone mentioning those bloody things. Thanks a lot."

Hermione flushed, but then Bill smiled at her quickly.

"I'm just kidding. I know Fleur will get her hands on one of those very quickly." He turned to look at his wife, and she nodded eagerly, fixing him with the pleading look he could never deny. He sighed. "Sooner rather than later, it seems. I'll pick one up for you tomorrow."

Fleur turned a radiant smile on Hermione. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, and Bill echoed her.

"Thank you," he said, but even though he tried his hardest to sound disgruntled, it was impossible to miss the fact that he was genuinely happy about this. But Charlie also didn't miss the way he suddenly glanced at their father, and his smile slipped. It couldn't be easy to be Bill now, Charlie thought, and he felt a pang of guilt. He couldn't believe he'd made that even harder for a while.

As they all sat there, intermittently talking and then lapsing into painful silences, Ginny and Harry were helping Molly with the last of the dishes in the kitchen. Ginny had sent a tidy pile of plates soaring into one of the cupboards and had just closed the cabinet with a click when she mumbled, "Mum, we have something we need to ask you."

Molly looked up at the sound of her daughter's voice, and Harry knew just by looking at her that she had some idea of what they wanted to talk about. She gestured for them to sit at the table, and she took the seat opposite them.

She waited patiently, and finally Ginny said, "We already told you that we want to get married while Dad can still be at the wedding. Well, we also want to do it when he's—when he isn't – " She didn't know how to continue, and she couldn't bring herself to look at her mother.

Molly, however, reached across the table and took Ginny's hand.

"I think it's wonderful that the two of you want to do this for your father," she said gently. "But at this point, we can't predict when your father's going to be feeling good and when he isn't. I think you both need to plan the wedding you want to have, and if it's a good day for your father, then we can consider ourselves lucky."

Ginny looked at her mother for a long time. It wasn't the answer she wanted, but Molly's eyes were clear, and Ginny knew that there was no alternative. She sighed and nodded. She started to stand when she realized that Harry was still seated beside her, and he seemed immobile. She turned to him then, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the table. She looked at her mother, but Molly was watching him steadily. It almost seemed to Ginny as if she expected what happened next.

"The wedding we want to have has him there," Harry said gruffly. Molly nodded before realizing that he wasn't looking at her.

"I know it does," she said softly. "Harry," she said, and now he picked up his head. He felt the lump rising in his throat when he looked at her, and he quickly looked down again, but she continued talking. "Harry, I know you want him there. So do I. So does Ginny. But we can't predict anything right now. Plan the wedding as quickly as you want to. But just remember – there are no guarantees."

He nodded quickly. When he didn't say another word, Ginny took his hand and pulled him up with her. She and her mother exchanged a pained look, but none of them said anything more, and Molly walked into the living room with the two of them trailing behind her.

* * *

None of them stayed much longer that afternoon. It couldn't have been more obvious that the company was starting to wear Arthur out. Ron and Hermione were the first to leave, quickly followed by Harry and Ginny. Bill, Fleur and Charlie were the next to go. That was when George told his mother that he was planning on spending the night. She smiled just like his father had, but George even detected a hint of relief in her eyes. He glanced at Percy again before looking back at his mother, and he knew that they both understood why he was doing this.

And it was after they'd all gone to bed that he knew he'd made the right decision. He'd gone to the kitchen for a glass of water. He was passing Percy's room on his way back to his own when he became aware of noises coming through the door. He paused for a moment, leaning closer, wondering what the sounds were. And then, suddenly, he knew, and he felt the same chill course through him that he'd felt earlier in the day.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Raising his hand, he rapped lightly on the door.

"Percy?" he called, his voice low. There was no answer, but now the room was quiet. Well – almost quiet. He could still hear his older brother sniffling, so he called again, "I hear you, you know. I know you're in there."

There was a longer pause, and George began to wonder if he'd been hearing things. He had already half-started up the stairs when he heard the unmistakable click behind him. He whirled back around in time to see Percy's door drift open. He took another deep breath before heading back down the stairs and walking in. Percy's lamp was on, and he was sitting on his bed, his knees drawn up to his chest.

George didn't look at him as he closed the door behind himself. He didn't look at him as he sat at the opposite end of the bed. And he still didn't look at him as he said, "It's good that you're here now Perce. I know it's got to be hard, but I wanted to tell you – we all appreciate it. It's better for Mum and Dad to have at least one of us in the house."

He mumbled something else then, something so low that Percy missed it, and now he looked up. There were tear tracks on his face, but his voice was his own when he said, "I didn't hear the last thing?"

George looked up then, too, and his face was flushed with shame. "I said I couldn't do it," he repeated, and Percy stared at him.

"Of course you could," he said, but George shook his head.

"I – I'm not strong enough," he admitted, and Percy stared at him now, his mouth falling open slightly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "You and – you've _always_ been brave enough to do _anything_."

But they both heard what he'd almost said, and now George shook his head again as tears welled up in his eyes.

"I'm _not_," he said, and he suddenly reminded Percy forcefully of how he'd sounded when he and the twins would argue so many years ago when they were small. His voice was choked as he added, "Fred was. I was when – when I was with Fred. But not now."

Percy felt the blood drain from his own face. George never talked about Fred this way. _Never_. He shifted closer to him on the bed but was careful not to touch him.

"I think you'd be surprised," he said. He sighed then. "It might almost be better if you _were_ here. Dad wouldn't forget _you_. I'm the only one he's managed to forget."

George was startled out of his own misery, and he stared at his brother. "Percy – it's – it's the tumor. And you're here all the time. If I were here all the time, he'd –" But before he could finish, Percy shook his head.

"No, George. It has nothing to do with being here all the time. It has everything to do with the opposite. I was – I was gone for three _years_." His voice broke, and he covered his face with his hands, so his last words were garbled, but George was fairly certain that they were, "Of course he'd forget me first."

He stared at his older brother's hunched form and suddenly understood the look he'd detected in his eyes that afternoon. It was guilt. It was the regret that he would always have for all of the time he'd missed. George thought they'd managed to convince him that there was no need for those regrets, that they wanted him back and that was that. But it seemed now to George, as Percy's shoulders started to shake, that Arthur's illness had brought all of these painful feelings of two years ago right back to the forefront.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, he put his arms around Percy then, and he whispered, "He _hasn't_ forgotten you, Perce. It was the tumor, and you know it."

Percy leaned into George's embrace almost against his will, and George rubbed his back, whispering, "Dad was so happy when you came back, Percy. He was so proud of you. He kept telling everyone that you came back to the right side at the right time. It was one of the happiest moments he had that year. You can't honestly tell me you think he'd forget you when you gave him something like that to brag about?"

But Percy was now crying too hard to answer, and George stopped talking. He tightened his embrace and held on until Percy finally started to calm down. When he was composed enough to pull away, he looked at George blearily and mumbled, "Thanks."

George looked at him for a moment before he said, "Honestly, Perce. Dad was so proud of you. And think of it this way. Even if you hadn't come back, he _still _wouldn't have forgotten you – not bloody likely, anyway, considering the great big prat you used to be."

Percy stiffened, but then he saw George's lips twitch, and he sighed deeply, smiling weakly.

"I get it, ok? I was being stupid."

Now George smiled for real. "No you weren't. You were just being … Humongous Bighead."

Percy stared at him before suddenly reaching behind himself and grabbing his pillow, swinging it around to catch the side of George's head. George grabbed at the hole where his ear used to be, but then he smiled when he saw the panic flit across Percy's face.

"Gotcha," he said lightly, but he ducked when Percy swung the pillow again, and then they both fell back on the bed, far more relaxed than they'd been just minutes earlier.

After they were silent for a little while, George asked casually, "You going to be able to sleep tonight?"

Percy shrugged and then said, "I guess. I haven't been sleeping well for these last few weeks anyway. I didn't think any of us were."

George nodded, acknowledging the truth of that statement. There was another silence until he said, far more hesitantly, "Well, if you want to – you could come up to our – to my room tonight. You could sleep in my bed."

There was no need to ask where George would be sleeping, and Percy didn't. He merely grabbed his pillow and followed George up the stairs.

They were both in their respective beds, almost asleep, when Percy mumbled, "I'm glad you're here," his voice thick with sleep.

"So am I," were the last words George said before he, too, drifted off.

Molly had to swallow hard the next morning when she went to wake George and found two red headed boys in that room again, but then she smiled. They would take care of her, of course. But they would also take care of each other. She and Arthur had raised them right.

**A/N: The angst continues, of course. Percy's issues seemed very unresolved to me after the last chapter, and then the idea for this follow up came from the review from Experimental Fairimental – thanks! Please read and REVIEW!**


	32. Mixups at Home and Secrets Told

When Percy seemed marginally calmer and more relaxed the following morning, Molly smiled at George over the pancakes and eggs, and he gave her a slight nod in return. He had noticed it too, but at the moment, he was too busy watching Arthur while pretending not to.

Once they'd descended the stairs that morning, they'd found both of their parents in the kitchen, and for a brief moment, George was able to pretend that things were as they should be, that Arthur was healthy, that he, himself, was just spending a night at his parents' house. But then Arthur turned and fixed both him and Percy with a vague smile, and he felt something inside of him start to ache.

For the duration of breakfast, Molly kept up a running conversation with Percy and George. Arthur hardly said a word, and George kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. It was clear, though, that his silence didn't faze either Molly or Percy. George didn't want to think about why.

He was just finished eating when Arthur spoke for the first time.

"So what are you boys doing with your day?" he asked them. For a split second, Percy and George glanced at each other, and then Percy answered evenly, "Going to work today, Dad. But I'll be back later tonight."

Arthur nodded, still smiling somewhat distantly. George shifted in his seat and then decided to adopt the same calm tone Percy 'd used.

"I'm going to the shop, Dad. If you'd like, I could bring you some of the newest inventions when I come for dinner tomorrow."

Now Arthur's eyes seemed to become more focused, and his smile broadened.

"That would be great. And next time you come, bring George, will you?"

George's breath caught in his throat, and he felt as if someone had dumped ice water down the back of his jumper. He looked at his mother, desperate for her help, but she was staring at his father now, and she looked terrified.

"Arthur?" she asked hesitantly, but he didn't read the worry in her voice, and he said conversationally, "It would be better if he brought George next time, wouldn't it, Molly?"

She, too, seemed to be at a loss for words, and it was Percy who finally said stiffly, "Dad, this _is_ George."

But Arthur shook his head. "Oh no you don't. You can't fool me like that anymore. Fred, I know it's you. I know…"

George never found out what he knew. He bolted from the table, feeling as though he were going to vomit. He stumbled outside, breathing heavily, and he only glanced back at the Burrow once before realizing that he couldn't go back in there. Turning on the spot, he disapparated, appearing only moments later in Diagon Alley, directly in front of the joke shop.

Ron was already in there, he could see through the window, but he could also see his own reflection, and he winced. He was stark white, and his eyes were dark pools of misery. He took a few deep breaths, ran his hands quickly through his hair, forced a smile, and walked inside. Ron looked up when he heard the door open and smiled back.

"Hey, how was it staying back in the Burrow last night?" he asked. George studied him for a minute and then noticed the tiny worry lines etched around his eyes. He shrugged.

"It was fine," he lied noncommittally.

Ron seemed perfectly willing to accept this answer, and they went about the business of opening the shop for the day.

The usual steady flow of customers filtered in and out all morning, and George tried to let himself get swept up in the joy that so many sales usually brought him – but it couldn't have been clearer to his younger brother that he was far from joyful. After observing him throughout the entire morning, Ron confronted him at lunchtime.

They were sitting down in the backroom with Chinese take away when Ron said bluntly, "Something happened when you were at Mum and Dad's. Is it Percy? Is he all right?"

He sounded annoyed, but beneath the thin layer of annoyance, George could sense the much deeper reservoir of fear, and he swallowed hard. He couldn't tell Ron about the morning. He couldn't make things that much scarier for him.

He tried to smile again, and he hoped it didn't look as ludicrous as it felt stretched across his face.

"Percy's fine," he said. "You – well – you saw him yesterday, but – he's ok now. There's nothing to worry about."

But Ron looked at him skeptically, and George thought – for the second time in two days – that he really _had _been better at everything when Fred was around, including putting one over on his other brothers. He didn't realize that his eyes had darkened again when he thought of Fred, though, and he jumped when Ron suddenly slammed his hand down on the table.

"Why are you _lying_?" he demanded, and George stared at him in surprise.

"I'm not!" he insisted. "Percy's fine!"

For a moment, they looked at each other, and George knew immediately that Ron understood what he wasn't saying. But he also thought that he would be too scared to ask about their father. He thought wrong.

"How was – how was Dad?" Ron's voice was gruff, and he wasn't looking at George anymore, but George knew he wanted the truth. He didn't give it to him. He couldn't.

"Dad's – ok," he said slowly. He hoped that would be enough. But when Ron's head came up, he knew that it wouldn't. Because for some reason he could hardly understand, Ron looked absolutely furious.

"He is _not_ fine," he said through clenched teeth. "You saw him yesterday, and you heard what Percy said. Dad is _not_ fine, George."

George was suddenly aware of the lump rising in his throat, and he stared at the table top, refusing to look at Ron, who was now glaring at him. But Ron was too angry to hear the unsteadiness of George's breathing, and he nearly shouted, "What happened at the Burrow?"

George wished he could shout back, but he knew he would be lucky if he could use his voice at all.

"Nothing," he whispered. He cleared his throat. "There's nothing to talk about. Everything was fine. Let's get back to work."

If Ron hadn't been so angry, he'd have heard the defeated sound in his brother's voice and just agreed with him. But he was too enraged at the thought that George was keeping something so important from him, and his voice was rough when he suddenly demanded, "What are we doing running a bloody joke shop anyway when our father's dying?"

It was the first time any of them had used the word. Even Ron hadn't expected to say it, and it was clear from the way his eyes widened. For a moment, the brothers stared at each other, and then Ron's hand flew to his mouth and he whirled around, dashing from the room and slamming the door to the loo shut behind him.

George sat there for a moment, staring at the space Ron had so abruptly vacated. After another moment, he pushed himself to his feet and went to the tightly closed door. He paused a moment, listening to the retching noises behind it, and then he forced himself to raise his hand and knock lightly.

"Ron?" he called. There was no answer apart from the hideous noises, and George called more loudly, "Ron, I'm coming in there."

Ron could hardly object. George pushed the door open – it was surprisingly easy, but Ron had been in too much of a rush to lock it behind him. His younger brother was crouched in front of the toilet, and his elbows were resting on the rim as he held his head in his hands. He didn't look at George when he walked in, but he let out a soft moan. George would have smiled if he hadn't been feeling so sick, himself. He was reminded forcefully of the first time he and Fred had given Ron and Harry fire whiskey, and they'd found both boys in much the same state Ron appeared to be in now. But then Ron moaned again, and George's smile disappeared.

"Ron?" he asked, cautiously moving closer to him. He reached for the cloth on the sink and wet it with cold water before handing it to his younger brother. "Here you go," he said quietly, and Ron took it silently. He mopped the back of his neck first, but then he brought it to his face. For a moment, George thought he was just going to mop his face, but when he didn't move his hands away, George moved closer and put his arm around Ron's shoulders as they started shaking.

"I'm sorry I shouted," Ron managed to choke. "I – I can't believe I _said_ that."

George rubbed his back and didn't answer. He couldn't believe it either, and he felt his eyes burning even as the knot in his chest tightened.

Finally, Ron took his hands away and looked at George. His eyes were red and swollen, and as George stared at him, he was suddenly and intensely afraid that he might lose the battle against his own tears. Without a word, he pushed himself away from Ron, hoping he wouldn't notice, hoping he wouldn't ask him any questions he was too tired not to answer, but Ron knew – he had to. As much as he didn't want to have this conversation any more than George did, he knew he had no choice.

In spite of the fact that George had put this distance between them, Ron said, "George, I know there's something about Dad that you're not telling me. What is it?"

And for reasons he would never be able to explain – or fully understand – George found that he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"He – he called me _Fred_." His voice sounded nothing like his own, and he tried to cough to ease the lump in his throat, but it came out as a sob. Ron's eyes started watering again, but now he moved close to his older brother and wrapped his arms tightly around him. It almost felt as if George would break apart if he let go, and many minutes had passed before George was calm enough to detach himself from Ron's grasp.

It was a long time before the two could look at each other, and then George mumbled, "I – I didn't know what to say to Dad. I didn't – I didn't say anything. I don't want to tell him he's wrong when he does that."

Ron nodded. "I wouldn't have told him either," he agreed huskily.

George shook his head then and sighed. Without another word, he pushed himself to his feet and reached down to give Ron a hand. They walked back out to the table, and both wrinkled their noses at the food they'd so unceremoniously left behind before they each grabbed their wands and hastily started cleaning up.

Once the room was relatively tidy, they glanced at each other, and Ron shook his head.

"There's no way I can go back out there looking like this," he muttered, and George realized, suddenly, how he, too, must have looked, and he nodded his agreement.

"Come here," he instructed, and once Ron was obediently standing before him, looking only a little wary, George directed his wand at his face and mumbled a spell. Instantly, Ron felt his face begin to cool, and when he glanced at his reflection in the window, he saw that all traces of redness and tears were gone. He turned back to George and watched in amazement as he performed the same spell on himself.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked. "That's bloody brilliant."

George flushed slightly. "Bill used it once for me back when – when I was upset about Fred last year. I eventually convinced him to teach it to me."

Ron looked at George pleadingly, but George shook his head as a slight smile flitted across his face.

"No way," he said. "It took me months to get it out of Bill. Not a chance I'll give it to you so easily. You'll have to earn it."

Ron glared at him, but then his eyes lit up.

"How about if I tell you a secret no one else knows?"

George looked at him skeptically. "It's not possible for _you_ to have a secret no one else knows," he said realistically, but Ron shook his head.

"No, honest. I do. I'll tell you if you promise to show me that spell."

George rolled his eyes. "Go ahead. But I reserve the right to withhold the spell if this is a stupid secret."

Ron snorted, then said, "Well, Hermione and I are engaged. Is _that_ a stupid secret?"

George stared at him, and when his mouth fell slightly open, Ron said, "Told you I had a good one."

George was still gaping in astonishment when he realized that Ron had started to look awfully uncomfortable, and suddenly, he burst into a wide grin.

"You didn't lie."

Without warning, he grabbed Ron into a rough hug, and he thumped him on the back as he whispered, "This – this will make Dad happy. I'm glad."

Ron nodded against George's shoulder, and he clung to him for a moment before they broke apart. They didn't look at each other as George asked, "When are you going to tell the rest?"

Ron shrugged. "We haven't talked about it yet," he said. "Soon, I guess. I think we're just waiting for Harry and Ginny to set their date. At least – well, that's what Hermione tells me."

George chuckled. "Smart guy," he said, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he said grumpily. "Tell me the spell."

**A/N: I had to end this on a relatively happy note after all of that angst. You can thank Katy for it since she was the complete inspiration for this chapter and just about everything in it, including one of the lines, word for word. (Thank you SO much, Katy. I hope this lives up to what you'd envisioned.) The only little thing that I did for myself was the reference to Bill teaching George that spell – which came from a chapter in another one of my stories, Still Left Behind. For the first time, they line up! Please let me know what you thought – read and REVIEW!!**


	33. Conversations with Ginny and Harry

Molly didn't have the energy to talk to Arthur about his conversation with George. She didn't have the energy to talk to him about anything serious at all until the next day, when he was far more lucid. First, she waited until Percy left for the Ministry. Then, when Arthur was sitting in the living room, sipping tea and reading the Prophet, she sat down beside him and began to talk.

"I think it's time for you to talk to the kids," she said bluntly. She'd been racking her brain for hours for a way to ease into the conversation, and she'd come up with nothing. And given the tenuous nature of Arthur's lucid moments these days, she knew she didn't have time to hem and haw. As it was, he just looked at her for a moment before nodding slowly.

"I know," he said, sighing heavily. He stared at the Prophet, but Molly was sure he wasn't seeing a word of it. When he finally looked at her again, she was also sure his eyes were brighter than usual. She spread her hands on her knees and studied them before she said quietly, "Harry and Ginny came to talk to me when everyone was here on Sunday. They want – they want to have the wedding when you can walk her down the aisle."

Arthur didn't answer her. He didn't look at her. Molly wondered for a moment if he were even still in the conversation, but then she heard it.

Arthur sniffed, and she looked up sharply. But he still wasn't looking at her. He was still staring at the newspaper, and now he was also pretending that tears weren't slipping down his face. She felt as if her heart were breaking, but she merely sat and waited until he said, "I want to walk her down the aisle too. I just don't – I don't…"

He couldn't continue, but Molly couldn't just sit beside him any longer either. She turned to him then and wrapped her arms him, holding him as she whispered, "I want you to be able to do this too, but I told them that we don't have any guarantees. I told them."

He nodded against her shoulder, but his arms tightened around her as he buried his face in the warm-smelling shirt that now seemed to be catching too many of his tears. It was a long time before he was able to pull away, to attempt to smile, to tell her he was all right. Molly let out a deep breath she didn't even know she'd been holding.

"Who do you want to talk to first?" she asked, and he thought for a moment before he said, "It would be fair if we went youngest to oldest this time, wouldn't it? Start with Ginny and Harry and work our way up to Bill and Fleur?"

Molly studied him for a moment with an odd expression on her face, and then she nodded. Arthur caught the look, though, and asked, "What?"

She paused before she said, "Well, I wasn't sure if you'd want to talk to the kids alone. But I'll be there, of course, if you need me."

Arthur caught her eye. "I need you."

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, and she whispered, "I need you too."

They didn't look at each other. Arthur cleared his throat and asked, "Will you tell Ginny and Harry?"

She nodded. "Of course," she said huskily. "When?"

"Tonight."

Molly swallowed hard. It was too soon. All of this was happening too soon. But she left the room to owl her daughter. They didn't have a choice.

Harry got the owl because Ginny was still asleep in their bedroom at Grimmauld Place when it arrived. After the conversation at the Burrow with Harry and her mum, she'd decided not to go back to Quidditch practice and had informed her captain that she would be home indefinitely. Given how committed she was the team, she received permission immediately. It was a small relief, but Harry felt it evaporate as he read the note from Molly.

His mouth was dry, but he got out of his chair at the kitchen table and dragged himself to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he stood there for a moment, watching Ginny sleeping peacefully. He was loathe to wake her with a note like this, but he knew he had to.

He sat down beside her on the bed, leaned over and planted a light kiss on her nose. She stirred slightly, a small smile playing across her lips. Unable to resist the temptation, he kissed her again, and this time, she reached up without warning and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. When she released him, he was breathing heavily, and her eyes were sparkling.

"Morning," she said mischievously, and Harry couldn't help but grin back.

"Morning," he said, flopping down beside her.

They lay side by side in a comfortable silence for a moment as Ginny stretched and yawned. Finally, she turned to look at Harry, and for the first time, she realized that he had a crumpled piece of parchment clutched in his hand.

"Harry?" she asked, her forehead creasing in confusion. "Why are you carrying around an old piece of paper?"

He froze. She saw it, and then she knew why.

"Give it here," she said quietly, reaching for the paper, and he handed it to her somewhat reluctantly. She opened the paper and read it. Harry wasn't sure when she was finished, though, because she continued to stare at it although the glazed look in her eyes was a clear indication that she was no longer reading.

"Gin?" he asked, and she startled awake again.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. He looked at her skeptically, and she shook herself. She tried to smile but failed miserably, and Harry reached for her then and pulled her into his arms. For a moment, she was stiff and resistant, but that only lasted for a moment until her fear came pouring out onto Harry's shoulder.

He wrapped her in his arms as firmly as he could manage, and she shook against him for a long time until she finally managed to bring herself back under control.

"I'm all right now," she whispered into his t-shirt, and he murmured, "Ok" as he relaxed his grip. She rolled away from him to grab a tissue, but when she glanced over her shoulder at him, she took another. Wordlessly, she passed it to him, and he took it without comment.

After a long pause, Harry cleared his throat.

"Do you need to owl her back to let her know we'll be there?"

Ginny sighed. "I'm sure she knows we will, but I'll send a message anyway."

He nodded. "Good idea. And when we're there tonight, we can talk about the wedding, right?"

"Sure," Ginny said. Nothing could have been further from her mind at this moment than their wedding, but whenever she had this thought, the guilt stabbed her because she knew how very important it was to Harry. She said nothing.

It was half six when they arrived at the Burrow, and Arthur was sitting in his armchair for the first time in a long time. He was so often on the couch these days that Ginny blinked to see him in his old familiar chair – and then she had to continue blinking. Nothing else was familiar. His pallor, the pain on his face and in his eyes … nothing was the way it should be at all. But she forced a smile onto her face as she went to kiss him hello. Harry was behind her, and he shook his future father-in-law's hand before joining Ginny on the couch. Molly, who'd been supervising the wash, came in then and kissed each of them before going to sit beside her husband.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, the four faced each other, and then Arthur said, "I know your mum sent the owl to tell you that I wanted to talk to you. I'm sure you knew this was coming. And I wish it could come later rather than sooner, but – well, we all know I haven't been myself lately. It makes the most sense to do this now."

Ginny nodded though nothing could have made less sense to her. Nothing about this made any sense at all. Arthur continued.

"When we told you kids about what was going on, we told Bill first since we decided to tell from oldest to youngest. Well, for the sake of fairness, we decided to go in reverse order this time. So in other words, please don't say anything about this to your brothers, Ginny. We don't want them to know we're doing this until Mum sends them an owl."

Ginny had no desire to argue. She was sure she wouldn't want to discuss this with anyone other than Harry once it was all over anyway. She nodded again.

Arthur took a deep breath then and let it out slowly. For a long moment, he studied his only daughter. Then he smiled, but Ginny thought she'd never seen his eyes look so sad.

"Ginny, before you were born, your mum and I wanted a girl so badly, but we'd accepted our fate of all boys. But then you came along. And I don't know if you can know just how much you made our dreams come true. Not only are you the best daughter we could have ever hoped for, but you are exactly the right kind of sister that your brothers have needed."

He paused for a moment, and Ginny tried, as unobtrusively as possible, to take Harry's hand. He squeezed hers tightly, and she concentrated on breathing steadily. But with every word her father said, it was becoming more and more difficult.

He fixed her with the gaze that always made her feel as if she were the most special person in the world to him, and he said, "You are strong, and you are also loving. You are tough, and you are also caring. Ginny, you are your mother's daughter, and that is the best compliment I could give you. You make me so proud."

She couldn't look at him anymore, but she couldn't look away either. Arthur saw this, and he shifted in his seat then so he was looking at Harry. He tried to smile. "Harry, I know we met when Ron and the twins stole my car and rescued you from your aunt and uncle, but you've become so much more to me and Molly than just Ron's friend from school –so much more, even, than Ginny's fiancé. We do love you for making our daughter so happy – and I know you'll continue to do that for the rest of her life – but we love you most of all because you've become another son to us. I knew your parents, Harry, and I know that they would be so proud of the man you've become. I can't think of anyone else I'd trust more with my only daughter."

Harry wanted to smile back – he did – but he couldn't do more than stare into his lap, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He let out a shaky breath.

Ginny glanced at him then and knew that she would have to be the one to bring up their wedding. She cleared her throat, but her voice was hoarse when she said, "Dad, we've been talking. We want to get married as soon as possible because – well – it won't count if you're not there with us."

Arthur tried to smile at her, but his lips quivered, and he coughed before he said, "It will count. I know you think now that it won't, but it will. This wedding isn't about me. It's about the two of you. I want to be there, Ginny. I want to be there more than anything. But I know your mum already told you that we don't know how I'll be feeling from one day to the next. I don't want you going crazy now planning this when we can't predict anything."

But Ginny shook her head stubbornly. "I'll be going crazy if I _don't _do this," she said, and Harry made some noise that she took to be agreement. She looked at both of her parents, and she knew they could see the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

"Let us do this," she pleaded. She brushed the tears away with her free hand that Harry wasn't holding, and she sniffed loudly. Her voice was quieter, though, when she repeated, "We need to do this."

Arthur and Molly looked at each other then, and then Molly saw that he couldn't handle much more of this. She said, "Ginny, Harry, why don't we give your father some time to rest. Come on in the kitchen with me."

Ginny seemed about to argue, but then she glanced at her father and realized that she couldn't. Without another word, she and Harry got to their feet and followed Molly from the room. Once they were out of earshot, Molly said, "Plan it if you like – but I don't think your father will make it."

Her voice was soft, but her words hit them like arrows. Ginny stood for a moment, staring at her mother with her mouth slightly open, and then she turned and ran from the house. Harry, however, seemed rooted to the spot. Molly looked at him for a moment, and then he looked up. His eyes were pained, but he nodded slowly.

"I'll go after her," he said, and his voice was utterly defeated. Molly nodded. She watched him trudge out the door and then, moving to the window, she walked him catch Ginny. It took all of ten seconds for her daughter to fall into Harry's arms, and Molly could see, even from hundreds of yards away, that she was sobbing. She sighed and then glanced in the direction of the living room. She had to go back in there.

Arthur was asleep in his chair. Brushing away her own fresh tears, Molly automatically pulled a blanket from the couch to cover him. She tried not to notice how normal this was starting to feel. She also tried not to think about how impossible Thursday would be … when they spoke to Ron and Hermione.

**A/N: I don't remember if Arthur and Molly knew James and Lily, but I can't imagine they didn't. Time is rapidly winding down on part of this story, and it makes me terribly sad. Please read and review!**


	34. Conversations with Ron and Hermione

* * *

The day after Arthur spoke to Harry and Ginny, the entire Weasley clan convened again at the Burrow for dinner. Ginny was particularly quiet, a fact that didn't escape anyone's notice, but Bill also didn't miss the way she was clutching Harry's hand and the way she also seemed to be avoiding looking at their father. He knew she wouldn't answer him if he asked why, so he spent the rest of the evening paying closer attention to what everyone was saying. This was why he didn't miss it when Molly asked George in a low voice if he would invite Percy out for the following night, nor did he miss her whispered invitation to dinner to Ron and Hermione.

It took all of Bill's willpower to repress the shudder that threatened to rush through him. For the first time in a long time, he wished he felt less responsible for his siblings. Because what was happening was clear, at least to him. He glanced at Ron, though, and wasn't particularly surprised to see that he didn't seem worried. If there were anyone who would not look for the worst, it was Ron. Bill just wished he didn't feel like he wasn't _looking_ for the worst but that it was out there waiting for him.

Before he left that night, he pulled Ginny into a tight hug, and when she clung to him a little longer than she usually did, he pressed his lips to her hair and muttered, "I'm always here if you need to talk, Gin. You know that, I hope."

She pulled back then, and as the youngest and oldest Weasley children looked at one another, a clear understanding passed between them, and Ginny nodded.

"I know," she whispered. She didn't say anything more, but Bill knew he'd said enough. He glanced once more at Ron as they all left the Burrow, but he seemed blissfully ignorant of what awaited him the next night. Bill sighed. There was no point in saying anything to him now that would upset him. He just hoped that Hermione was prepared to deal with what he could only imagine would be some pretty bad fallout. Then he looked at her, and he saw the way she was watching his little brother, and he relaxed. She'd be fine. Ron was much luckier than he probably even knew, himself.

* * *

Hermione knew why they were going to the Burrow again the next night. She had eyes, and she'd seen the way Ginny had been moping around Grimmauld Place since she and Harry had gone there on their own. She also knew that Ron didn't seem to find a problem with their going back on the very next night. She worried that he really didn't know how very little time really was left (even though she'd spent enough nights lying frozen in bed, listening to Ron's occasionally shaky breathing while pretending not to, that she knew he did).

When they got to the Burrow, Molly had just finished preparing dinner, and they all seated themselves at the table. Molly and Arthur had both agreed that it would probably be best for Ron to at least have food to help him get through a conversation like this.

They'd just tucked in when Arthur cleared his throat. Ron looked up, the fork making its journey from the plate to his mouth, and he found his father smiling at him. His fork slowed, and he smiled back hesitantly.

"Yeah, Dad?" he asked.

It was a few moments before Arthur seemed to realize that Ron was waiting, and he said, "I was just remembering the day we first took you to the Hogwarts Express."

Ron's own smile faltered, and he carefully and deliberately laid down his fork even as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on his father. Under the table, Hermione took his other hand and held it tightly as Arthur continued.

"Your mum told me about how you just started talking to Harry that day and how you made him feel so welcome, so at home in our world. I've never forgotten that, Ron. I wouldn't have anyway, but every decision you've made in your life, both before that day but especially after, have shown me who you really are."

He paused again, and he looked at Ron almost as if he were seeing him for the first time. "You are every bit as much of a hero as Harry is," he said quietly, but his voice was full of love and conviction. "You might not have had a prophecy about you since the day of your birth, but you still went out, with no regard to your own safety, and helped Harry save the world. I know you weren't the one who killed Voldemort, but Ron – there is no way Harry could have done it without you. You are loyal, and you are loving, and even though I know you don't always believe it, you should know how proud you've always made me."

Ron's jaw was clenched, his grip on Hermione's hand becoming painful, but she couldn't look at him. She could hardly look at Arthur either. But he turned to her then, and his smile broadened.

"Hermione, you've obviously also helped Harry over the years, but you do something else as well. You love Ron. You see him for who he really is – something I'm not sure even he knows. You are very special to me and Molly, and one thing that makes me so happy is that I've watched the two of you for years now, and I know that you can have the same kind of happiness we have."

Hermione stared at him even as his image blurred through the tears in her eyes, and she didn't even look at Ron for his opinion before she blurted out, "We – we're engaged."

Arthur and Molly sat there in a stunned silence before Molly suddenly launched herself at her son and future daughter-in-law and grabbed them in a hug so tight that Ron almost toppled out of his seat.

"I – we –." Molly tried to speak but no words would come out. Finally, she pulled back and beamed at them though her eyes were bright with tears. "This is wonderful," she concluded simply. She turned to look at Arthur then, and he was giving the three of them a noticeably crooked smile.

"It is," he agreed, but his voice wavered, and what he wasn't saying was clear to all of them. It was wonderful – and it was something he would never see.

The silence that pervaded the room then was painful, and Ron found himself staring at the food on his plate, thinking, for the first time he could remember, that he had no desire to eat another bite. He pushed his chair back from the table then, and as he stood, his parents and Hermione looked at him questioningly. He tried to force a smile, but his voice sounded strange in his own ears as he said, "I – I need to get back to Grimmauld Place. I – I told Harry I'd help him with something tonight."

Before any of them could ask what Harry needed, he was gone, and seconds later, they heard the crack as he disapparated from the garden. Hermione sighed, and Molly looked at her but didn't need to say a word.

"We'll be back tomorrow night," Hermione mumbled as she got to her own feet, preparing to go after Ron. "Thank you –for everything."

Moments later, she, too, was gone. Arthur and Molly looked at each other, and he whispered, "Another wedding…"

Molly's eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she got out of her own seat and went to her husband. Even as she wrapped her arms around him, she felt his shoulders shaking, and she choked out, "Even if – even if you're not – you'll still be –"

She couldn't go on. It wasn't true anyway. Being there in spirit, as they both knew from Fred's absence – well, it just wasn't the same at all.

* * *

When Hermione got back to Grimmauld Place, she found Harry and Ginny in the living room. They stopped talking when she walked in, though, and glanced at each other and then back at her. She felt her heart sink.

"Ron …," she managed to whisper. "Where – where is he?"

Ginny sighed. "Went straight to his room," she said softly. "Didn't stop to say hello or anything. Dad – Dad talked to you both?"

Hermione nodded then even as she started to back out of the room, but Harry's voice stopped her.

"I'd – I'd leave him be right now," he said. She turned then. He was looking at her intently, and she knew what he didn't want to say. But she also knew that she had to try.

"I have to," she said, and she walked up the stairs. She'd only gotten to landing where when she came to an abrupt stop. Because even though the door was still a few feet away – and tightly closed at that – she couldn't miss the sounds coming from behind it. And they sent chills down her spine.

Her feet felt like lead as she dragged herself to the door, but the knob wouldn't turn.

"Ron?" she called softly, but he didn't answer. She doubted he even heard her. She tried to knob again and wondered if she should use magic to try to get in there. She'd reached back to pull her wand out of her pocket when she realized that Harry and Ginny were standing behind her – and that Ginny was shaking her head.

"Don't," she pleaded. Hermione's hand froze when she heard the anguish in Ginny's voice, and her face burned.

"I want to help him," she said, but Ginny shook her head again.

"This won't help. If you go in there, it will only embarrass him. He'll feel like he has to stop. He locked the door for a reason, Hermione. You know he'll let you help, but right now – you can hear him. He needs the time to do this by himself."

Hermione knew she was right. She just wished it didn't hurt so much. Her back to the wall, she crossed her arms tightly and lowered her head. She would wait.

Inside the room, Ron was lying face down on the bed. He had heard the murmurs of conversation, but he couldn't let himself think about it. He didn't care right then if there were enough people to fill a circus outside of his room – as long as they stayed out there. Because all he could think of were his father's words … _you should know how proud you've always made me_. Even as they echoed in his mind again, more tears soaked into his pillow.

His father was proud of him. His _father_ – the man who'd raised Bill and Charlie and Percy and Fred and George and Ginny – was proud of _him_. He choked on the lump in his throat, and the sobs he'd managed to control suddenly burst from him. How was he supposed to do this, he wondered? How was he supposed to go on – to live his life – to marry Hermione – to raise children of his own, even – without his father? How would any of it matter if Arthur weren't there to see it and be proud of it?

Secure in the thought that the door was locked and no one was there to see this, he didn't stop crying for a very long time. When he finally did manage to calm down, he opened the door without a thought to using the spell George had just taught him – and he froze. Hermione was leaning against the wall with her head down and her arms crossed – that was somewhat all right. But Harry and Ginny were standing there too. And he suddenly realized that while he may have locked the door, he didn't put a silencing charm on it.

His ears turned the telltale Weasley red, but before he could go back into his room, Ginny's voice arrested him.

"Dad spoke to _us_ yesterday."

It was all she said, but it did the trick. He turned back then and looked at her. Her lower lip trembled as she said, "It was – it was awful."

Ron nodded slowly.

"It was," he agreed. Neither of them said anything else, and then Hermione looked up. She'd been crying too, Ron realized, and he felt a pain in the back of his throat.

"We did make him happy," she said softly. Ron stared at her for a moment, and then he nodded and took her hand. She squeezed his tightly and looked at Harry and Ginny.

"We told them that we got engaged," she said, and suddenly, she smiled. For a moment, they stared at her, and then Harry grinned. He took Ginny's hand then and pulled her with him to stand before Ron and Hermione.

"That's fantastic news."

The four of them looked at each other, and then Ginny was hugging Hermione, and Harry was hugging Ron. It was when they switched and Ginny was hugging her brother that Ron choked, "how are we going to do this? How are we going to get married without…?"

He couldn't finish it, but he didn't need to. She pulled away then and swallowed hard, but she said quietly, "We don't have much of a choice."

They stared at each other, and Ron felt his eyes burning again. He blinked hard, but the lump in his throat was too painful to ignore.

"It's not fair," he said, and hardly realizing what he was doing, he buried his face in her shoulder as the tears came again.

She was right—but that didn't make this any easier.

**A/N: Thanks be to Lisa (little0bird) for helping out with this chapter. I should be out shopping for my husband's birthday right now, but here I am, posting away. I told him he'd have to wait until I finished typing. Now that's dedication that deserves reviews. ;-) Hope it lived up to expectations.**


	35. Conversations with George

When Ron got to the shop the next morning, he was white and quiet. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to talk to George, and his older brother was more than happy to accommodate him. He was perfectly willing to ignore whatever was obviously bothering Ron and pretend that nothing was amiss. He felt selfish when he realized this, but he was getting exhausted by having these emotional conversations all the time. Neither of them said anything at all, but when they'd been together in silence for more than an hour, George realized that wasn't going to work either.

There was a lull in business, no customers in the shop, when George said brightly, "So Mum's invited me for dinner tonight. Just me. Wonder what I've done wrong this time to get this honour."

Ron was frozen in place. He couldn't bring himself to look into George's face, and now George's smile faltered.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to keep the note of cheer in his voice, but it faltered noticeably. Ron finally forced himself to look at his brother, and then neither of them needed to say anything more. George managed a small "oh," and then he turned and busied himself with the shelf of Extendable Ears. The conversation was effectively at an end.

* * *

George arrived at the Burrow at 6pm, the time his mother had specified, and he felt his stomach drop when he found his father alone in the living room, his eyes half-closed.

"Dad?" he whispered nervously, and Arthur jolted awake. For a moment, he stared at George as if he weren't quite sure at whom he was looking, and George found that he was holding his breath, praying with all of his might that his father would know who he was… would know that he was _not_… but his fears were calmed when Arthur smiled.

"Welcome, George," he said. His voice was much weaker than George was used to hearing it, and he swallowed hard even as he forced a smile, himself.

He settled himself in the armchair that Arthur had long since abandoned for the longer couch, and he immediately felt the strangeness of sitting in his father's chair. But he said, "I left Ron in charge of the shop when I left to come here. I think – I hope it's still standing tomorrow morning."

Arthur laughed weakly even as he shook his head slightly.

"You have to be nicer to your brother," he said, but the humor in his voice let George know that he was joking. George smiled.

"Come on, Dad. If I were nicer, then Ron wouldn't know it was me."

Arthur laughed again, but it turned into a cough, and then his hand went to his head as he winced horribly.

George started out of his chair, but Arthur couldn't seem to stop coughing, and George yelled, "Mum!"

The note of panic in his voice brought Molly running from the kitchen, and she stopped short when she took in the sight. She recovered quickly, though, and rushed to her husband's side, ordering George to join her, to help her raise Arthur higher on his pillows, and then to go fetch a glass of water.

Once the coughing fit subsided, Arthur seemed exhausted. Molly sat beside him, and as George watched, she took his hand in hers and leaned over to whisper something. George shifted uncomfortably on the edge of his seat. He had the distinct impression that he was waiting for something – something he would very much rather avoid.

When Arthur sat up a little straighter and fixed George with a serious look, he knew he was right.

"George," he began, and his voice was gentle. George suddenly found his eyes stinging, and he stared at the wall behind his father, but Arthur knew he was listening. He continued.

"I have to be honest," he said softly. "If I'd ever imagined having this conversation with you at all, I never would have thought you'd be sitting here by yourself."

Molly's grip on Arthur's hand tightened, and he looked at her then. Her eyes were full, but she shook her head slightly and gestured to George then. He took one look at his son and realized just how hard this was for him, and he'd hardly said any of what he needed to. He took a deep breath.

"George, I'm so proud of you," he said bluntly. Now George did look at him, and Arthur knew that his own eyes were too bright. He forged ahead anyway. "You are so much stronger than anyone could have ever given you credit for when you were growing up. But since we lost Fred, I've seen the way you've not only managed to survive but to also have the life that he'd have wanted you to live. And I know that if you survived that, you'll survive anything. I know you'll miss me, George, but I know you'll be ok, and I know you'll help everyone else be ok too."

George couldn't look at his father anymore, but he had nowhere else to go. He covered his face with his hands and just sat, his body very still. Arthur and Molly looked at each other then, and he nodded for her to go to their son.

She put a hand on George's shoulder, expecting just to give it a quick squeeze. She did not expect him to suddenly wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face in the front of her apron. His shoulders started shaking then, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. None of them spoke, and the only sound in the room was of George's choked sobs. She smoothed his hair even as she stared at Arthur. He stared back at her, his expression unreadable.

When George finally got his tears under control, he slowly released his grip on his mother. He pulled back and dragged his hand across his eyes.

He turned to his father then, to apologize, but he was surprised to see the expression on his face.

"Dad?" he asked hesitantly, but when Arthur turned to him, his eyes were strangely vacant, and somehow, George knew, with a pit of dread in his stomach, just what was coming next.

And when Arthur smiled and said, "How's Hogwarts, Fred? Are you home for the break?," George bolted. He wished he didn't have to. He wished he could be stronger. He wished he could stay and help his mother. But he couldn't. It just hurt too much.

He apparated back to the cobblestones in front of the shop and was relieved to discover that Ron had closed up and was gone for the day. He didn't feel like facing him just now. He was about to unlock the door when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around to find Katie Bell standing behind him with a grin that faded the instant she saw his face.

"George!" she'd started to exclaim, but the enthusiasm died before it even fully left her mouth, and her brown eyes softened in concern.

He tried to smile at her, but it didn't work, and she took his arm and pulled him into the shop without another word. She closed the door behind them, and he let her guide him up the stairs to his flat. He didn't know why he wasn't speaking or trying harder to entertain her, but he suddenly felt numb, and he didn't know if he'd have been able to do _any_ of these things if she hadn't been there. It wasn't until he was sitting on the couch, and she was approaching him with a cup of tea, that he finally forced his voice to work for the first time.

"Thanks, Katie," he said. His voice was rough, but she hardly seemed to notice. He cleared his throat. "What are you – what are you doing around here tonight anyway?"

She looked at him for a moment and then said, "I was just doing some shopping and figured I'd drop by to see you. It's been a while…"

She trailed off, but the two of them looked at one another, and George couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. He wondered, once again, how their relationship had ever managed to fizzle out as much as it had. For a long time after Fred's death, she was the only one he could talk to, and then one day, he just couldn't. He hurt her, and he knew it, but he didn't even know why. It hurt him, too, but he didn't know how to fix it. That was three months ago already. But now here she was, sitting before him. He tried to smile, and once again, he failed spectacularly. He shifted his gaze to his tea. If she looked at him, she could read him. He didn't want to be read right now.

But Katie said softly, "I – I was in St. Mungo's the other day. My aunt is sick. And – well – I saw your mum there. George, she – she told me what's happening with your dad. I – I am so sorry. I really am."

It was the last thing he expected her to say. He stared at her, and his mouth was dry.

"Thanks," he managed to whisper, and then he had to look away. Because for some inexplicable reason, his eyes were burning, and that was the last thing he wanted her to see.

After a few minutes of silence where Katie watched the back of George's head, and he sat with his hands clenched in his lap, she whispered, "George?"

He didn't look up. He couldn't. He hadn't seen her in months, and now here she was, and he was on the verge of tears? No. It just wasn't fair. But she didn't give up.

"George?" she asked again, and this time, she shifted down the couch so she was sitting beside him. And the moment her arm grazed his, the tears started to roll down his cheeks. He covered his face, trying not to let her see, but it was too late. Silently, she put her arm around his shoulders, and he fell into her then, his arms going around her almost instinctively. He clung to her then, his tears soaking into her shoulder.

After a few minutes, she murmured, "I'm sorry."

It was a long time before he could speak, but when he could, he mumbled, "So am I."

He pulled back from her then, and they looked at one another. He knew why she was sorry – it was Arthur. She felt bad. She wished he weren't sick. But he wasn't just sorry about that. He was also sorry that they'd gotten to this point, that things weren't better between them. But he didn't have the time or the energy to talk about that now.

"Thanks," he added, and she nodded. She took his hand then and squeezed it tightly. His spirits lifted slightly. Maybe she understood anyway. Maybe – maybe he wouldn't have to do this by himself…

**A/N: Well, I couldn't leave Katie out any longer. The reference to their past relationship refers to my other story Still Left Behind. I'm trying to make them line up a little. Now I MUST go to bed, but please read and review. This was definitely one of the more difficult ones to write.**


	36. Conversations with Percy

When Percy returned to the Burrow after George so abruptly made his exit, he was unsurprised to find his mother in the kitchen and his father in the living room. Arthur was lying down on the couch with his eyes closed, and Molly was in the kitchen. Her back was to Percy when he walked in, but when he said her name, she didn't turn as she mumbled a soft hello.

Her voice sounded nothing like it usually did, and he felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach.

"Mum?" he asked again, and now the thinly veiled fear in his voice forced her to face him. Her eyes were red, and Percy felt his stomach fall even further. His lips were numb even as he asked the question he knew he had to ask. "Is – is Dad all right?"

Molly stared at him for a moment, and then she seemed to make a decision.

"Percy, come sit with me," she said, motioning for him to join her at the table. He did so hesitantly, wondering what she could possibly have to tell him now. He quickly found out.

"George was here for dinner tonight," she said quietly. "Your father – well, I know he had that day when he forgot you, but Percy – it's – it's gotten worse."

He stared at her. "W –worse?" he stuttered.

She nodded slowly. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, and when she spoke, her voice sounded completely unlike her own.

"George and your father have had two conversations now when your father thought he was Fred."

She said it bluntly. Percy sat completely still in his chair, staring at his mother, and then he nodded briskly.

"All right, then," he said, and his own voice was completely businesslike. He rubbed his hands together, and if Molly hadn't looked at them at that moment, she'd never have realized that they were shaking. Before she could say anything, Percy continued. "I think I'll go in and sit with him now."

Molly stared after him as he pushed his chair back and walked determinedly into the living room. Wondering at his new resolve, she followed him.

As he sat down, Arthur stirred at the noise, and then he saw Percy and smiled.

"Percy," he said, and his voice sounded even weaker than it had before he'd fallen asleep. Molly felt a chill course down her spine, and the same thought she'd been trying to suppress for months came rushing back – how much time? How much did they have left?

Even as she once again shoved the question to the back of her mind, Arthur forced himself into a sitting position as Percy quickly moved to help him. Once he was propped on his pillows, he looked at Percy steadily, and Molly suddenly realized what was happening. Arthur was going to talk to him now instead of waiting. And the answer to the question she refused to fully consider became a little clearer.

"Percy," Arthur started, and Molly wondered whether or not she should go in there, but he didn't seem to need her. She hesitated for a moment and chose to hover by the door. If she had a chance for a break, she would take it. Sometimes… it was too hard.

"I know it hasn't always been easy," he was saying, and Percy was studying him intently, nodding. She wondered if he knew what was coming. Somehow … she didn't think so.

"Your siblings wondered if you would ever come back. All of them did. But Percy … your mother and I always knew that you would. We never doubted it. Because no matter what, we always knew how much you cared about all of us and how much this family means to you. You might not have the same kind of sense of humor as your brothers and sister, but you do have a sense of humor – more than any of us ever really gave you credit for. Just – just ask Fred."

For a moment, Molly wondered if this were about to turn into something awful again, but then she caught a glimpse of Arthur's watery smile, and she knew that he was still very much in this reality. But then… she looked at Percy.

He was still watching Arthur closely, but now his hands were clenched in his lap, and he seemed to be completely rigid. She wondered if he were going to say anything at all, but she wasn't at all surprised when he said, his voice very tight, "Thanks, Dad. I – I'm still sorry about everything."

But Arthur shook his head. "No, Percy," he said gently, and his eyes were no longer full of tears but full of love. "You don't have anything to be sorry about anymore. And – when I'm not here – I don't want you to feel bad about any time you feel like you've missed. You've more than made up for any of that."

Molly wondered how much longer Percy would be able to do this. He was still holding himself together tightly, but the strain was starting to show in the way his entire body was starting to shake slightly.

His voice was almost inaudible when he said, "I – I still wish I hadn't done any of that. I still wish – I wish I'd listened to you from the beginning. I can't believe I didn't trust you, Dad. I'm – I love you."

They were words that their children only said rarely and Percy least of all. But Arthur only continued to smile and said softly, "I know. And I love you too. I never ever want you to forget that. No matter what you might sometimes choose to remember about me, that's the one thing I always want you to know. Even when you weren't with the rest of us, I still loved you. We all did. You're always a Weasley, Percy, no matter what."

Now Percy's shaking intensified, and Molly couldn't hold herself back any longer. Even as he buried his face in his hands, she rushed into the room and put her arms tightly about him. As he clung to her, crying silently, she looked at Arthur, and he looked back at her, his gaze steady. She was afraid to ask him what he was thinking.

By the time Percy managed to pull himself together, he looked completely ashamed, and he released his mother as if she were on fire, muttering something about having to talk to someone somewhere about something important. Before either of his parents could question him, he was gone.

For a few moments, Molly and Arthur sat in silence, and then, before she could ask the question, he whispered, "I don't know the answer, Mollywobbles, but … I don't think it's going to be long now…"

She looked straight ahead as she nodded, the tears slipping down her face. She hadn't thought so.

* * *

Percy didn't know where he was going, but he knew he would splinch himself if he didn't decide quickly, which was how he ended up outside Shell Cottage very suddenly, effectively stopping Charlie in his tracks.

Bill and Fleur weren't anywhere that Percy could see them, but that was ok with him. He hardly wanted to see Charlie either, but it was too late for that now. His eyes puzzled, Charlie walked over to where Percy was standing, seemingly staring out over the water.

"Perce?" he asked. Percy wouldn't turn or answer him, and Charlie suddenly realized that his younger brother's shoulders were shaking. He waited a minute and then said, "Percy?" again, and his voice was a lot gentler than it normally was.

Percy still didn't turn, but he said, "I – I don't know how to do this, Charlie."

It was an admission that caused Charlie's mouth to fall slightly open. While Percy might have changed a lot in the past couple of years, admitting to his own weakness still wasn't one of his strengths. It took him a minute before he said, "None of us do, Percy."

Percy knew this was true. He knew it, but he couldn't have told Charlie that if he'd tried. He just nodded and attempted to turn away even more, but Charlie didn't let him. Even as he was moving, Charlie was reaching out and putting his hand on his shoulder, freezing him. If there were one thing Percy didn't expect from his tough older brother, it was for him to touch him right now. But now that he had, Percy couldn't fight anymore, and he hardly knew what he was doing as he hid his face in Charlie's shoulder as the tears ran down his face.

"It's just – it's _Dad_," Percy managed to choke out, and Charlie nodded.

"I know," he whispered. He waited until he was sure he had control of his own voice before he whispered, "But at least we have the chance to say – to say goodbye, right?"

Percy clung to the words as tightly as he was clinging to Charlie, and slowly, he started to regain his composure. Sniffling, he pulled away from his brother and reached under his glasses to rub his eyes. He sighed and looked at Charlie.

"You're right," he said. His voice was subdued, but Charlie was relieved to hear that the strain was gone from it. He looked at Percy questioningly, and now Percy nodded.

"You are," he added. "I know that. It's just – it doesn't make this any easier. I don't _want _to say goodbye."

Charlie looked at Percy for a moment, and to his own horror, he felt the lump rising in his throat. He coughed a few times and managed to say, "Neither do I," his voice rough.

Percy studied him, but Charlie stared at the ground, refusing to meet his brother's gaze. This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to be the one comforting Percy. How had he let himself get so upset?

He didn't expect to feel Percy's hand on his arm, and he shuddered.

"Don't," he said, his voice low. But Percy wouldn't move away, and now Charlie wanted to kick himself for doing the same thing to him just moments earlier. He continued to stare at the ground, but he knew Percy could feel the tremors he couldn't control.

But Percy said nothing, just stood there with him until he managed to force his breathing back to normal. After he was sure his voice would work properly, he looked up again. Percy was watching him, concern in his eyes, and Charlie tried to smile.

"I'm all right," he said, but he knew he wasn't convincing either of them. Percy nodded, though, and Charlie felt a rush of gratitude that he could hardly express.

For a long time, the brothers stood side by side, looking out at the sea. After a long silence, Percy asked, "Where are Bill and Fleur?"

Charlie's voice was quiet but much calmer when he said, "They went to the healer for a checkup for Fleur. I think Bill wants to ask why she's eating so many odd things, but I'm pretty sure he won't like the answer."

Percy smiled. "And what answer do you think that'll be?"

Now Charlie smiled too. "That it's only going to get worse?"

They laughed then, and even though it sounded nothing like it normally did, it restored them to some sort of balance… that is, until an owl flew up and dropped a letter in front of Charlie. He bent to retrieve it, and as he read it, he paled.

"What is it?" Percy asked, and the fragile tranquility vanished.

Charlie's voice shook as he said, "It's – it's from Mum. She wants – she wants me to come for dinner tomorrow night."

He and Percy stared at each other then, and Percy said faintly, "He's – he's saying goodbye to all of us now. That's – that's what he's doing, isn't it?"

Now Charlie couldn't answer at all. He clenched his jaw and stared at Percy, his eyes filling even as he blinked furiously. But Percy knew what he had to do, and he took a step closer to Charlie, wrapping his arms around him even as he started to cry, the awful, painful sobs of someone unaccustomed to tears. 

But he didn't speak. He realized one thing as he held tightly to his brother, trying desperately to swallow his own tears: nothing he could say could fix this. Nothing at all.

**A/N: Sorry this took so long! (Well, for me it was a long time.) I finally have time to breathe – and hence to write – again, and I'm so glad! I hope this one continues to go with the flow. I've been out of practice. Please read and REVIEW!!**


	37. Best Laid Plans

Bill and Fleur returned a couple of hours later to find Charlie sitting on the couch with a copy of the Prophet in his hands. He tried to smile at them when they walked in, and he asked how the appointment had gone, but it couldn't have been more obvious to both Bill _and _Fleur that something had happened while they'd been gone and that Charlie had something on his mind. A quick glance from husband to wife was all it took for Fleur to beg off from a longer conversation and head to the bedroom for a nap.

Once she was gone, Bill leveled Charlie with the most direct gaze he could manage and asked bluntly, "What's going on? Something's wrong."

Charlie fidgeted in his seat. "It's nothing," he said, but the way he avoided Bill's eyes was enough to confirm his older brother's fears.

"It's Dad," Bill said, and it wasn't a question. Charlie heard a tinge of fear in his voice, and he sighed. He didn't have a choice now. He'd have to tell him. But that didn't mean he had to look at him.

"Percy stopped by when you were gone. Dad had a talk with him tonight. And then – and then Mum sent me an owl inviting me to dinner tomorrow. Percy thinks – well, we think that Dad's trying to say goodbye to all of us now."

He was proud of himself. His voice had managed to sound relatively normal throughout the whole thing, and Bill couldn't possibly know just how much this control was costing him. He hoped.

In the silence that followed his explanation, Charlie stared determinedly at his knees. He didn't need to look at Bill. He was fine.

But… the noises he was hearing couldn't possibly be coming from Bill. Because his breathing was sounding very strained, and he was taking deep, almost gasping breaths. Slowly, very slowly, Charlie looked up. Bill wasn't looking at him, though. In fact, his head was turned away, but that couldn't hide the fact that his shoulders were trembling slightly. Charlie swallowed hard and then put his hand on Bill's shoulder and squeezed tightly. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything, and then Bill asked, his voice gruff and his face still turned away, "Did Percy say anything about how Dad was doing tonight?"

Charlie sighed. "Not – not really. He was just – he was upset when he got here. Very upset. And then I got the owl, and –" He trailed off. He wasn't going to tell Bill what had happened next. He still couldn't believe he'd broken down with Percy. No one was ever going to find out about that, and he was _never _going to let that happen again.

But now Bill turned back to look at him, and even though his own eyes were haunted, they also held more understanding than Charlie really liked. He glanced away quickly even as he muttered, "I – I don't really want to go."

Bill nodded but said nothing. He couldn't blame him. Just thinking about having to sit there – having to hear his father say goodbye – made his hair stand on end. He didn't want to do it either.

* * *

Charlie left for dinner at 7pm. Bill and Fleur were just sitting down to eat their own dinner at 7:30 when they received the urgent summons from the Burrow. It was Charlie's Patronus, and his voice sounded completely terrified when it shouted, "Come as quickly as you can. It's Dad."

They abandoned their plates and rushed for the fireplace. Apparating might have been faster, but Fleur had been having a hard time with it as the pregnancy progressed. As it was, she practically threw herself into the fireplace, shouting "THE BURROW" as she went. Once she was gone, Bill followed immediately.

She was stumbling onto the hearth, only to be caught by Charlie before she could fall face first onto the carpet. Bill didn't even get the chance to thank him as he caught his own balance. Once he was upright, he realized that his parents were nowhere to be seen.

"Where are Mum and Dad?" he demanded. Charlie stared at him, suddenly speechless. He'd been waiting for Bill to come with the irrational hope that his big brother would fix everything, but he hadn't counted on having to tell him what had happened. He didn't know if he could.

Bill realized the problem immediately and took some steadying breaths of his own before grasping Charlie's arm tightly. His voice as calm as possible, he said, "Tell me what happened, Charlie. I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

Charlie felt his own breathing starting to ease. "They're at St. Mungo's," he said softly. "Dad – he was just about to say something to me, I think, and then he just kind of – passed out. I thought Mum would freak out, but she just sidealonged him to the hospital. She told me to let everyone know and that we should meet them there."

Bill nodded. "Did you send your patronus to the others?"

Now Charlie looked slightly ashamed. He shook his head. Bill tried to swallow his impatience.

"All right, well, you send yours to George and Percy. I'll send mine to Ron and Ginny. We'll tell them to meet us at Mungo's. Ok?"

He obviously didn't need to ask. Charlie had already set to work, and Bill did the same. Fleur sat on the couch watching them, and she held her hands protectively over ever-expanding waistline. She couldn't help but wish she could protect _Bill_ this easily…

Once they were finished, Bill looked at Charlie.

"Are you ok?" he asked suddenly.

Charlie couldn't bring himself to look at Bill because the gentleness in his brother's voice was making his eyes sting, so he just nodded.

"I'm fine," he croaked. He knew Bill didn't believe him, but he also knew they didn't have the time to do this now. "Let's go," he said, and he walked out to the garden without looking back.

Once he was gone, Fleur pushed herself off the couch and went to Bill, putting her arms around him even as he instinctively buried his face in her hair. They held each other tightly for a moment, and then Bill whispered, his throat tight, "I hope…" But he couldn't say anymore. Fleur just held him more tightly until he reluctantly let go.

"Let's go," he said, his voice strained. She put her hand on his cheek, and he blinked quickly. He tried to smile at her, but his lips were trembling too much to manage it. They stood there for another moment until Bill sighed and cleared his throat. He took Fleur's hand and led her to the fireplace.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and she nodded wordlessly, but her eyes asked him the same question, and he knew the answer was no, he wasn't ready. He would never be ready. But he nodded too and gestured for her to go ahead of him. Once she was gone, he took one last look around the Burrow. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever see his father here again…

By the time Bill arrived at St. Mungo's, everyone was there except for his mother. He found his family in the waiting room, scattered across the plush, comfortable chairs. George was sitting in the corner with his head in his hands. Fleur was sitting in the chair next to his, but she was staring straight ahead. Charlie was three seats away, glowering at the ground as if daring anyone to come near him, while Percy sat beside him, glancing over worriedly every so often. Ron was sitting, stone faced, but gripping Hermione's hand so tightly that Bill wondered if there would be any feeling in it by morning. Ginny had her knees drawn up to her chest, and she'd rested her head on them, her red hair shielding her face from her brothers' prying eyes. Harry was smoothing his hand over her hair, but he was keeping his own face carefully turned to the floor. Bill sighed. It would be up to him to get any information. That much was clear.

Without saying anything to any of them, he approached the witch who was sitting at the desk, and she looked up wearily. When she saw his red hair, though, her expression softened, and Bill suddenly wondered if he'd ever known what real fear was before this moment.

He hated how his voice shook as he said, "I was wondering if you had any information about …"

But before he could finish, she said, "Arthur Weasley," and the fear coalesced into a solid block of ice in the pit of his stomach.

He nodded, and she said, "The healers are in with him now, and your mother is there too. As soon as there's anything for you to know, I'm sure she'll be out to tell you."

Bill tried to smile, to thank her, but he couldn't force out the words, and he found himself moving blindly to where Fleur was sitting. Once he'd fallen into the chair, she started rubbing his back in small, soothing circles. When he finally felt ready to speak, he looked up and cleared his throat. Even though none of them looked at him, he knew they were listening.

"Mum – is in there with them," he said quietly, and he was happy to find that his voice not only worked but sounded relatively normal. "They said she'll come out to tell us when there's something we need to know."

There was no reaction, but he let out a deep breath. He knew they'd heard him.

They'd only been sitting there for ten minutes when the door opened, and that's when all of them looked up as one. It was Molly, and her face was streaked with tears.

She stood there for a moment as they all stared at her, and then she choked, "It's – it's time. The healers said he has – maybe minutes. They said they'll let all of you in together to say – to say –" She couldn't go on, and they sat there, motionless, until Hermione someone managed to detach herself from Ron and leap up to help. Once she put her arm around her shoulders, Molly let out a shuddering breath.

"You have to go now," she said, and some of the old power returned to her voice. Without a word, they all stood as one and approached their mother. Bill was the first to try to hug her, but she shook her head.

"We don't have time," she whispered. "Go to your father first."

He couldn't argue. As he led his siblings into their father's room, he felt a cloud of unreality start to settle over him. This really couldn't be happening.

But it was. And when he saw his father lying in the hospital bed, his face almost as white as the sheets, he knew that he never _would _get his chance to say a proper goodbye.

Slowly, they all shuffled to the bed, and they lined the sides. None of them looked at each other, but they all stared at their father, trying to drink in every last detail while they still could. It couldn't have been clearer to any of them that they would be the ones saying goodbye now. Arthur wouldn't be saying another word.

As if by silent, mutual consent, Bill spoke first. He felt Fleur's fingers tighten around his own as he cleared his throat.

"Dad, I had the best father for 30 years, and our child will know that he or she would have had the best grandfather imaginable. We'll make sure of it. I – I love you. I promise to take care of Mum."

His throat closed up, and he couldn't say anymore. He lowered his head as Fleur whispered, "Sank you for ev'rysing."

Charlie knew it was his turn, but he wondered how he'd be able to get a word past the snitch-sized lump in his throat. He managed to whisper, "I love you, Dad. I – I'll also take care of Mum."

He'd managed to get through it in once piece and sighed with relief. But Percy wasn't quite as lucky.

"I know you said I didn't have anything to be sorry about anymore," he said, his voice trembling, "but I'll always be sorry not to have more time with you. I love you, Dad. I know that you know that, but I also hope you know that if I can become half the man you are, _then_ I'll know my life was a success." He let out a shuddering breath as he felt the sobs rising in his throat, and he had to turn away as he covered his face with his hands.

George glanced at him quickly and then back at the bed and somehow managed to rasp, "I know there were times in the past few weeks when you thought I was Fred, Dad, but now you'll get to see him for real. Say – say hi for me. Tell him I miss him. And I'm sure he'll tell you just how much I'm going to miss you because he would have felt the same way."

He shook his head then and closed his eyes. He couldn't leave, but he couldn't look anymore either.

Hermione didn't know how Ron was going to do this. For that matter, neither did he. He squeezed her hand even more tightly as he whispered, "I'm going to keep making you proud of me, Dad. And Hermione and I – we're going to tell our kids all about you someday and how lucky they are to have Arthur Weasley as their grandfather."

He looked at Hermione then, and she could see how hard he was trying not to break down, and she leaned into him even as she whispered, "Arthur, you would have been the best father-in-law. I'll miss you."

She felt Ron starting to shake, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Ginny let out a deep breath. It was her turn at last, and she gazed at her father steadily before her vision got too blurry to see. She sniffed and her voice was full of tears as she said, "Even if you're not there for our wedding, you'll always be with me, Dad. I love you. Thanks for being the best father any of us could have ever asked for." She stopped. She had to.

Harry knew it was his turn. He knew he finally had the chance to tell Arthur how much he appreciated everything he'd ever done for him. But all he managed to say was, "Thanks for everything, Arthur" before the sobs bunched up in his chest, and he couldn't say another word.

For a few minutes, they all stood there, and then Bill said, "We should tell Mum to come back in."

They followed him back out into the waiting room where she was sitting in a chair, staring into space. She looked up at them, and her eyes filled again when she saw their faces. But she didn't say anything as she walked past them back into the room.

She knew he couldn't hear her, but she knew she wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. She sat beside him on his bed and took his hand carefully.

"Arthur," she whispered, "you have made my life what it is. You, our children – you've made me complete, and I don't know how to do any of this without you. I know I will – our kids wouldn't give me any other option – but without you, things will never be the same. You are the love of my life, Arthur Weasley."

And even though he didn't answer, she somehow thought he might have heard her.

It was mere minutes later when she walked back in to tell them the news. Arthur was gone.

**A/N: I think this is the first time I've written a chapter that made me cry for real. Sorry if this came as anything of a shock. I just think these things are always a shock, and we never can prepare for them -- as much as we'd like to. Please read and REVIEW!**


	38. Aftershocks 1

The Burrow was silent even though everyone but Molly, Bill and Fleur had gone back after receiving the news. Bill and Fleur had stayed behind to help settle the business at Mungo's. In the meantime, the rest of them had said they would take care of the other details like informing the family and cleaning up around the house.

Once they got there, though, the déjà vu hit all of them at the same time. It had been this way once before, and it couldn't have been clearer to each of them that they were suddenly feeling Fred's absence as keenly as they felt their father's. Ginny and Ron immediately disappeared up the stairs the moment they returned. Charlie threw himself into a chair in the far corner of the room and folded his arms tightly as he glared at the floor. It was obvious that he didn't want anyone talking to him. Percy fell into the chair closest to the fireplace, took off his glasses and carefully rested them on the arm of his chair before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Neither of them seemed to be aware of anyone else in the room. But George couldn't stop shaking, and he sat down on the couch, his arms wrapped around himself as he hunched over, taking gasping breaths. Hermione watched him from where she stood with Harry at the foot of the stairs.

After a few minutes, she looked at Harry. He was staring straight ahead, but he felt her eyes on him, and he turned to her. She motioned to George, and Harry looked at him for a moment before turning back to Hermione. She didn't miss the brightness in his own eyes, but he motioned for her to go over there.

"Will you be ok?" she whispered to him, and he nodded quickly, but she realized immediately that he was just trying to get her to move away from him. They both knew that she was one of those people who could release his tears, and she could see that he was not ready for that yet. But she had to make one suggestion.

"Why don't you go up to Ginny?" she asked. He swallowed hard as he whispered, "Why don't you go up to Ron?"

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Hermione nodded slightly, conceding his point. They both knew that Ron and Ginny needed this time to themselves before they would accept any kind of help, even from the two of them.

She moved to the couch and hesitantly sat beside George, wondering if he even wanted this now. Maybe he needed to do this by himself. Maybe he would push her away. But … she had to try. She cared too much about this whole family not to. And without Ginny here … he didn't have anyone else right now who would.

Tentatively, she put her hand on his shoulder, and his shaking intensified. He didn't move his hands, though. For a moment, they just sat there, but as George's breathing grew even more ragged, Hermione shifted closer to him and put her arm around him. That was when he moved his hands only to quickly bury his face in her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Startled, Hermione put both arms around him, and as her shoulder dampened under a steady flow of his tears, she felt her own eyes welling up, and she bit her lip as tears ran down her cheeks. After a long time, he finally let go, but he wouldn't look at her even while he hoarsely whispered, "I'm – I'm sorry, Hermione. Thanks."

Hermione looked at him even though he wasn't looking at her, and her voice trembled when she whispered, "Don't."

He continued staring into his lap. He couldn't seem to look up, and after another moment, he, too, bolted for the stairs.

Once he was gone, Harry joined Hermione on the couch. No one said another word until Molly, Bill, and Fleur returned.

When the three came tumbling out of the fireplace in quick succession, Percy opened his eyes, and even Charlie looked up. Molly's eyes were swollen, and she stumbled almost blindly into the armchair that none of them had dared to sit in. She didn't say a word to any of her children for a long time, and Bill and Fleur joined Harry and Hermione on the couch.

After about ten minutes of silence, Molly finally cleared her throat and turned to Charlie. "Have any of you started notifying the family?"

He looked startled at being addressed, but he managed to shake his head though he didn't answer. Molly sighed and turned to Bill.

"Honey?" she asked. "Would you?"

Before she could finish the question, Bill had leapt to his feet and rushed for parchment. He returned quickly and set to writing short notes. Fleur glanced over his shoulder and saw that he was writing the same few words on each message: _We're sorry to tell you that we have bad news. Dad's gone. We'll be in touch about arrangements._

He didn't look up as he wrote the notes, but Fleur noticed that his hand was trembling, and she wondered how he was managing to form letters at all. But she said nothing, and he finished more quickly than she expected him to.

Once he was done, he looked up at Molly and said, "Mum, I'll send these out now, and then I'll go back to Shell Cottage to get some of our things. We're going to stay here with you for a few days to help out with anything you need."

Molly tried to smile, but her lips didn't quite make it, and her eyes weren't in it at all. She settled on, "Thank you both. That would really help a lot."

Bill nodded and stood abruptly, carrying the parchments into the kitchen. From the living room, they could all hear him muttering to himself as he queued them up for Pig to take. Once the first was gone, he came back in and walked quickly to the fireplace. Even as he was grabbing the powder and throwing it in, he called over his shoulder, "Be back soon, Mum," and then he was gone.

For a moment, there was a very uncomfortable silence, and then Fleur pushed herself to her feet. Without looking at anyone but Molly, she said quietly, "We'll be back soon."

* * *

When Fleur got home, though, she couldn't find Bill anywhere. She looked in their bedroom first, and when he wasn't there, she wandered through the rest of the house with no success. Finally, she glanced outside. She was surprised to find him standing before Dobby's grave, but she wasn't surprised to see, even from a distance, that his shoulders were trembling. With a heavy heart, she walked outside, trying to keep her footsteps as quiet as she possibly could.

By the time she reached him, he was crying openly, and even though he didn't look at her, she knew that he knew she was there. They stood side by side, gazing at the headstone Harry had created, until Bill choked, "I can't – I don't know how – Fleur, it's my _Dad_." And with no further warning, he threw himself into her arms.

She held him as tightly as she could, and it was a while before he was able to pull away and draw his hand across his eyes. He let out a shaky breath, and he glanced once more at the grave before turning to her again.

"Let's go get our things together?" he asked, and she nodded quickly, silently leading him into the house.

Once back in their bedroom, he insisted that she sit while he packed. Fleur sighed. He continued to treat her like glass, and while she understood that she might have warranted this type of behavior a few months ago, she was feeling _fine_ now, and she wanted to help. But as she watched her husband move around the room in a daze, it was clear that he needed to do this by himself. Because even though he said nothing to her, the tears continued to roll down his face as he shoved clothes into their bag, and he hardly made any attempt to wipe them away.

When he was finished packing, he took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and grabbed his wand to perform the face cooling spell that he knew would get a lot of use in the foreseeable future. Once he was finished, he grabbed the handle of their bag and reached for her with his other hand.

Fleur squeezed his hand tightly, and he looked at her.

"Je t'aime, mon mari," she whispered, and his eyes started to water even as he bent his head to kiss her.

"I love you too," he whispered back, pressing his head against hers and looking into her eyes.

After a long moment, he sighed and moved away. "It's time to go," he said reluctantly, and she nodded.

* * *

When they returned to the Burrow, the only people in the living room were Molly and Percy. They were sitting side by side on the couch, and Molly had her arms around her son as tears streamed down his face. He was mumbling incoherently, but Bill caught words like "failure, so much time, Fred," and he knew he had to get Percy away from their mother.

"C'mon, Perce," he said gently, going over to where they were sitting, and Percy looked up with a start. His face crumpled when he saw his older brother, and once Bill reached down and pulled him to his feet, Percy dissolved in tears on his shoulder. Bill held him for a moment before helping him from the room. When they were gone, Molly looked at Fleur, her expression unreadable.

"He's going to do this again, isn't he." It wasn't a question, but Fleur knew exactly what her mother-in-law was saying. She nodded, and Molly shook her head.

"Does he know that none of us expect him to be strong through this?"

Fleur sighed. "I sink 'e does know zis, but 'e 'as to stay strong for 'is own sake. But do not worry. 'E … well, 'e ees not afraid to let go when 'e is alone…"

It was clear to Molly what she wasn't saying, and she added quietly, "or when he's with you," and Fleur nodded reluctantly, hoping that her mother-in-law wouldn't be offended. But Molly smiled at her.

"Honey, I know that you are one of the main reasons that Bill made it through Fred's – through what happened to Fred, and I know that while he might have been helping everyone back then, you were the reason he was able to do that. Please… if you can, let him know that no one expects him to take care of everyone now."

Fleur nodded. "I weel try."

Molly sighed. Neither of them needed to say that this would be a nearly impossible feat. She and Fleur sat in silence for a few minutes until Fleur whispered, "'Ow – 'ow are you doing now?"

"It – it doesn't seem real," her mother-in-law admitted. "I keep expecting him to walk down the stairs or walk in from the shed. I can't imagine that he won't."

Fleur swallowed hard. In her mind's eye, she saw Shell Cottage for a moment without Bill, and her heart felt as if it would break in two. Before she could give in to the tears that were suddenly threatening, she leapt to her feet.

"I am going to make tea," she said, and she rushed off to the kitchen.

Molly was alone and sitting very still when Bill came back down the stairs by himself. At his mother's questioning look, he said, "He fell asleep. I took him to his room, and he just went out like a light. I think he was exhausted."

His mother motioned for him to join her on the couch, and he did, but Molly could sense his fear of being too close to her right now, and she immediately knew why.

"Fleur is making tea," she observed, deciding to keep the conversation as light as possible. "Your wife is becoming British, I think."

Bill tried to smile, but it didn't work, so he settled on nodding. "Mmhmm," he murmured.

Neither of them said anything else until Fleur returned with the tea. She directed it to the table with her wand and settled it gently before them. Molly automatically reached over to pour it, and once they were all served, she said, "We've already gotten a few sympathy owls. We need to make some arrangements, though, so everyone will know when the funeral is. How soon do we want to do this?"

Bill felt a chill course down his spine as he realized that his mother actually expected him to answer this question – that this would be the kind of responsibility he could expect from now on. He tried to shake off this thought as he said, "Well, today is Friday, so … Monday?"

Molly sighed. "Yes, that sounds right. Monday it is. We'll let everyone know tonight?"

Bill sighed too. He knew this meant that he and his siblings would have to send out the news, and he didn't relish either doing it himself or assigning the task to any of his brothers or Ginny. But he didn't say any of this to his mother. Instead, he nodded and said, "Ok. I'll organize the others, and we'll make sure we get the word out."

He had half pushed himself out of his seat to go find his siblings when he realized his mother was watching him closely. He lowered himself back down slowly and turned to her, waiting to see what else she had to tell him. He hardly expected it.

"Sweetheart, I hope I'm not giving you too much responsibility right now."

Bill tried to stop her, to tell her that he didn't mind, but she took his hand and continued to talk.

"I know you're hurting too. After all, you never even got your chance to say goodbye."

She looked at her oldest child now, but he couldn't look back at her. His jaw was clenched, and he was blinking fast. She said softly, "It's not fair that you didn't get to say goodbye, but I don't have to tell you how much he loved you, Bill. You were our first born. You were his heart."

He couldn't sit there a moment longer, but his mother was still holding his hand, and she wasn't letting go. His breath was coming faster, and he knew she could hear it, but he couldn't look up. He wouldn't. She didn't need this from him.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, and he suddenly wrenched his hand from hers and ran out of the house. Molly looked at Fleur, and her eyes were pained.

"He's only going to hurt himself," she said, and Fleur nodded.

"I know," she whispered.

**A/N: There's so much more to go with this one day that I had to stop here. Expect quicker updates this week since I'm on vacation. I have to acknowledge BadMum and Kittboosmom for their invaluable help in all of this. Thank you both so much. I also really appreciate all of the extremely positive reviews I got for the last chapter. I can't thank everyone enough. Please read and review. It definitely inspires me to keep going, and there certainly is a ways to go.**


	39. Aftershocks 2

Fleur and Molly stared at each other for a few moments before Fleur excused herself to go out into the garden. She expected to find Bill pacing somewhere, so she was surprised when the first person she came upon was Charlie. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, and he was shredding small blades of grass while he glared at the ground.

She was loathe to interrupt him when he clearly wanted to be alone, but she felt slightly more comfortable doing it since he'd been practically living in her house for the past few months.

"Charlie?" she said hesitantly. He looked up at her, but the scowl remained. She shifted uncomfortably but forced herself to continue. "'Ave you – 'ave you seen Beel anywhere?"

He jerked his head in the direction of the orchard. "He went over there," he said gruffly, returning his gaze to the ground. She paused for a moment before moving in the direction he'd indicated, but he didn't look up again, and she sighed. She didn't know who Charlie would listen to except Bill, but she did NOT want to put this on Bill right now. He was having enough trouble of his own, she was sure.

And the moment she walked into the orchard, she knew she was right.

Bill was pacing like she knew he would be, but he was stark white, and his lips were pressed tightly together in a thin line. He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't stop moving. He just continued to walk back and forth, and she leaned against the tree, watching him.

It was many trips back and forth before his footsteps finally slowed, and he finally turned to look at his wife.

"Why did she say those things?"

His voice was horribly strained, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to go to him, but she knew that was the last thing he needed right now.

"I don't know," she said softly. "Maybe she sought you needed to 'ear zat since your fazzer never got ze chance to tell you."

Bill's mouth trembled, but he looked straight at her as he said, "It's not fair. It isn't. I know I said I didn't want to have that conversation with him, but I did. I _did_."

Fleur nodded, her eyes pained. "I know you did," she whispered. "And you are right. Eet eesn't fair. You all should 'ave gotten to 'ave zis talk wiz your fazzer. But your muzzer was right. 'E loved you, and you know zat, wezzer 'e told you or not."

Bill stared at her for a moment, and then he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"It's still not fair," he said, his voice muffled, and Fleur went to him then. His hands were still covering his face, so she put her arms around his waist. After a moment, he started to shake, and he put his arms around her as he hid his face in her shoulder.

She held him tightly to her until his shaking subsided. He took a few deep breaths before he pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his face matched his hair. "I can't keep doing this. We don't have time. I have to go help my mum."

But before he could rush off, Fleur grabbed his hand and held it tightly. He turned to her in surprise, and she said firmly, "Beel, your muzzer and I were talking. She 'opes zat you know zat you do not need to be ze strong one 'ere. All of zis – well, eet ees 'ard for you too."

He couldn't look at her. "I'm ok," he mumbled. "Of course it's hard, but I've always taken care of all of them. And now… well… I guess I really am the head of the family. There's – there's no choice."

_The head of the family _… the words echoed in the grove, and Fleur felt her own eyes stinging.

"I – I am so sorry about all of zis," she whispered. Bill nodded, but he kept his face firmly turned away.

"Let's go back in," he said quietly after a few minutes had passed, and without another word, he pulled her out of the orchard and toward the house. She worried for a moment that they would pass Charlie, but he was no longer where she'd left him. She was fairly certain that this wasn't a coincidence.

They found Molly sitting at the kitchen table. She looked up when they walked in and saw immediately that she had to act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, so she attempted a smile.

"Come on in," she said quietly. They joined her at the table, and that's when Bill realized that she was making a list.

"Do you need our help?" he asked, but Molly shook her head.

"I'm just trying to figure out what we need to do for Monday. I've made the list of people we need to notify, and I've already contacted the officiating wizard, but we need to discuss who's going to give the eulogy."

She didn't look at Bill when she said this, and he was glad because he felt as though she had poured ice water down his back. There was nothing he wanted to do less than give a eulogy at his father's funeral, and nothing that could have made him feel guiltier.

He tried to keep his voice as level as possible as he said, "Well, that's probably something we should all discuss together. Maybe we can do that at dinner tonight."

Molly looked at him for a moment before she nodded. "That's a good idea," she said quietly. She stood up from the table suddenly, and Bill looked at her in confusion. She came around and touched his hair gently before saying, "I'm going to see if George wants to help me notify everyone."

"But…" Bill started to protest, but his mother shook her head.

"No, you sent out the first round of notifications. You get a break now. Why don't the two of you bring your bags upstairs and get settled in your old room?"

Before he could continue to argue, Fleur said, "Sank you, Molly. We'll do zat and be back down 'ere for deener unless you need us earlier."

Molly smiled at her. "Ok. I'll see you both later."

Molly waited outside of George's room until Bill and Fleur passed with their bags, and once they were gone, she raised her hand and knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer, and she knocked harder, this time calling "George, it's Mum." After a long pause, and just as she was about to knock again, the door clicked and swung open slightly.

She took a deep breath and pushed it the rest of the way. The sight that greeted her, though, took her breath away altogether.

George was sitting on Fred's bed, and he was staring at a photo album that she was sure hadn't seen the light of day in two years. But she recognized it the moment she saw it, and she had to swallow hard against the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. She closed the door behind her silently and joined George on the bed where she found him staring at the family photo they'd taken in front of one of the pyramids.

Molly's eyes started to blur, and she was beginning to wish that she hadn't chosen George for this task that she'd yet to even tell him about. It was too soon to be looking at pictures, too soon to remember what her life had been like when it was complete – too soon to realize that it would never be complete again. She was about to find an excuse to leave when George whispered, "Do you think …" he had to stop to clear his throat. "Do you think they're together now? Dad and Fred? Do you think – do you think people find each other there?"

He wasn't looking at her, and she was glad. Because her eyes were filling with tears, and she hardly knew how she was supposed to answer if her throat were entirely closed. It was a long time before she managed to say, "I hope so."

She was still staring at the photo when she felt her son's eyes on her, and she forced herself to raise her head. George's eyes were brimming with tears, but he reached for her then, and Molly hardly knew what she was doing as she collapsed against him.

George didn't know what to do as his mother shook in his arms. Tears streamed down his own face, but he held on as tightly as he could until her breathing seemed to ease, and then she pulled away, looking extremely apologetic.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said softly, and she reached up then to wipe away his tears. But he shook his head and gently pushed her hand away.

"It's ok, Mum," he said, and his voice was surprisingly firm. "We all know how hard this is for you. You don't have to pretend it isn't."

Molly sighed and smiled. "Your father and I did a good job with you," she observed quietly, and now George's mouth trembled. She rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment until he regained his composure, and then she said, "I have a job if you want one."

He looked up and nodded quickly. "Yes," he said immediately, not bothering to ask what it was.

She sighed. "If you're sure you're up to it, we need to let everyone know that the funeral is on Monday. Will you send out the notifications? I told Bill he's not allowed to do it again."

George nodded again, but his mother didn't miss the way his face lost a little more color. He caught the concern in her eyes and said, "I'm fine, Mum. I'll take care of it."

"If you're sure," she said again, and he nodded.

"I'm sure. I'll do it now. The names are downstairs?"

Molly nodded. "If you need help, you could ask Ron or Charlie?"

George stiffened when she said his brothers' names, and his mother picked up on this immediately.

"What is it?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice.

"Nothing." George tried to evade the question but realized quickly from the look in her eyes that this would not work. He sighed. "It's nothing, really. It's just that – well, Ron's been holed up in his room since we got back from Mungo's. I don't think he wants to talk to anyone right now."

Molly let out an explosive breath. This didn't exactly come as a surprise, but she couldn't help but wish there were some way to get through to her youngest son at times like these. Then something occurred to her.

"Hermione?" she asked hopefully, but George shook his head. Molly's eyes widened slightly. So Ron was shutting _everybody _out. This was _not_ good.

"He won't even talk to _Hermione?" _she asked again.

"She and Harry went for a walk," he replied quietly. "Ginny's in her room, too," he added, and at this, Molly sighed wearily. That was hardly a shock either.

"Well, Charlie can help you," she said, but George shook his head again, and now she said, "_What_?" and her voice had a very distinctive edge.

"Charlie – Charlie's not talking to anybody," George said quickly. "I don't even know _where _he is now. He went outside when Bill and Fleur left before. I don't know if he came back in."

His mother looked stricken, and George hastened to add, "I'm sure he's ok, Mum. He probably just needed some time to himself."

Molly nodded but with a very heavy heart. She was _not _sure Charlie was ok. Not at all.

**A/N: Sorry to do this to you, Katy, but hey – we haven't had one of your updates in a while, so all's fair in waiting for a chapter! The rest of the family is coming up soon. Like I said… expect quicker updates this week. And I am thanking Lisa (little0bird) AND Katy (Badmum) now for all of their help with figuring out these characters' reactions over the next few chapters. Please read and REVIEW!!**


	40. Aftershocks 3

_A/N: Longer one at the end, but I just had to say -- I keep my promises, Katy. I'm no longer holding him ransom. I also just fiddled with the timeline, so if you're reading this for a second time, I just made things a bit clearer._

Saturday afternoon was a long, quiet one. Since George had finished sending out the notifications, he was at a loss for what to do until Molly encouraged him to take a walk outside. She was hoping he would find Charlie, who'd been missing since breakfast, and they both knew it, but when he returned over an hour later, his eyes were puffy, and he was very much alone. Molly's dread increased.

At 6:00, Bill and Fleur entered the kitchen. They both looked slightly more rested, and Molly was relieved. She hadn't seen them much that day, and it was clear that they'd been catching up on some much needed sleep.

"Can we help you with anything, Mum?" Bill's voice was soft, and Molly realized that they'd all unconsciously adopted the hushed tones they'd used when Fred died – as if they were afraid of what would happen if they raised their voices. But she shook her head.

"Just take a seat," she replied quietly. "I'm sure the others will be down soon. I stopped by their rooms to let them know we'd be eating now."

Bill looked surprised. "Ron answered?"

But she shook her head, her eyes troubled. "I couldn't open the door either, so I just called through it. I hope he heard me."

Bill and Fleur looked at one another, but neither of them said anything. And neither of them was shocked when everyone but Ron appeared for dinner. Even Charlie returned from wherever he'd been – the look on his face forbidding any of them from asking a single question – but he came. Ginny kept her head down as she descended the stairs, and Hermione had to keep a firm hand on Harry's shoulder as he made an attempt to go to her. She shook her head slightly, and as he noticed the dazed look in Ginny's eyes, he knew Hermione was right. He swallowed hard. He wished she weren't.

George and Percy appeared together, and it was clear to their mother that Percy had just woken up. He seemed almost as if he were still half asleep, even. She was fairly certain George must have woken him, and she smiled him her thanks. He just ducked his head and took a seat.

It took no time for everyone to realize that Ron still hadn't descended the stairs. Molly turned to Hermione, a pleading look on her face.

"Dear, would you…?" she started to ask, and Hermione nodded quickly, jumping to her feet. She hadn't seen Ron in hours. She was worried too.

But she returned moments later, looking completely dejected and shaking her head when Molly looked at her.

"He's not answering his door," she said, taking her seat beside Harry. He squeezed her shoulder tightly as he felt the tremor course through her. Her voice was almost inaudible when she added faintly, "He put an impenetrable charm on the door, too. I couldn't hear a thing, and I couldn't turn the knob."

No one said anything in response to this. There was a long silence that Molly broke when she summoned the stew to the table and directed the servings onto everyone's plates. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was of everyone's forks as they pushed the food around, but no one took a bite. Finally, Molly sighed.

"Listen, we have a few things we need to discuss. As I'm sure you all know by now, the funeral is going to be on Monday. Dad – Dad will be buried by Fred, and we'll have the service here like we did – like we did last time. But we still need to decide who's going to give the eulogy."

Charlie had a mouthful of stew, but his mother's words suddenly made it taste like sawdust, and it fell from his mouth back onto the plate. This sparked an almost involuntary disgusted look from Percy, which Charlie deliberately ignored. It seemed as if no one dared to breathe until Hermione said tentatively, "Well… if you all want… Harry and I can do it… can't we, Harry?"

Harry turned to look at her slowly, the words "Are you out of your bloody mind?" on his lips, when he realized with a start that _Ginny_ was looking at _him_ for the first time. Her mouth was tightly closed, but her eyes were begging him to say yes, and he found himself doing so without another moment's hesitation. She nodded at him then and turned back to the food she wasn't eating, and Harry was left to wonder how on earth he was ever going to get through this.

Molly, meanwhile, was trying very hard to smile at both Hermione and Harry.

"We can never thank the two of you enough," she said, her voice wavering, and each of her sons nodded, but none of them dared to look up now. They could hear the tears in their mother's voice, and they knew that if they looked at her, there would be very little chance that any of them would leave the table with their composure intact. Molly seemed to realize that too because she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she was calmer, she said quietly, "I'm sure people will stop by tomorrow. Just don't be surprised, all right?"

Bill sighed. "We've done this before, Mum," he reminded her gently, and she acknowledged this, but she said, "You all have to be polite to Aunt Muriel. No matter what she says."

They rolled their eyes at this, but she repeated insistently, "I mean it. The last thing we need is for her to have some sort of fit now."

Surprisingly, George's lips quirked. "Well, it'd be in keeping with most family gatherings, wouldn't it?"

And Molly was surprised to find herself smiling too. "That it would," she conceded, "but I still don't want it. So be on your best behavior, all of you."

There was some grumbling, but no one argued. And it was only minutes later when Charlie shoved his chair back from the table and walked outside without a backward glance. Molly looked after him, worry etched into every line of her face, but Bill caught her eyes and shook his head.

"Just leave him be," he said softly as the rest of his siblings seemed to follow Charlie's lead and abandoned the table. "He needs time."

Molly nodded. "I know," she almost whispered. And he wasn't her only concern.

Ron didn't leave his room for the rest of the night. Against Molly's wishes, Harry seemed completely comfortable sleeping in the living room. He was unwilling to even attempt to knock on Ron's door even though he knew full well that this was what she hoped he would do. But he knew what it was like to need to be alone, and he wasn't about to begrudge Ron any of that. He had a lot to think about anyway. He wanted to strangle Hermione for offering their services to give this eulogy. He didn't know how he was going to do this at all. It wasn't fair. He didn't know what, exactly, but these were the words that kept running through his mind. It just wasn't fair.

He didn't know what time it was when he finally managed to fall asleep, but he was still unconscious when the room began to be bathed in sunlight. He did stir, however, when he heard the footsteps close to his head. Opening his eyes a crack, he was just in time to see Charlie disappear out the door. Sighing, he turned back over and closed his eyes again. Maybe he could pretend he hadn't seen that.

Charlie closed the door quietly behind him, hoping Harry hadn't seen him. He hurried to the edge of the garden and the moment he was out of the boundary, he apparated directly to Hogsmeade. If he hurried, he'd be there in plenty of time.

As he walked up the hill, he tried not to think about what his mother would say if she knew where he was right now. Or what his father would say, for that matter…

No. He shook his head. He couldn't think about that. He had to focus now.

Once he reached Hagrid's hut, he rapped on the door briskly. Fang's barking filled the small space, and then the door opened, and Hagrid was standing before him. But the smile that he'd met him with just hours earlier was gone, and Charlie realized belatedly that George must have sent a notification here too. He sighed.

Before Hagrid could say anything, Charlie said quickly, "The funeral's tomorrow, and I don't want to talk about anything."

For a long moment, Hagrid stared at him, and while Charlie was fairly certain that Hagrid would have broken down if given the opportunity, he took a deep breath instead and nodded.

"All righ' then. There're dragons tha' need us. Let's go."

Charlie almost sagged with relief and stepped aside to let Hagrid lead the way. For a long time, neither of them spoke, and when they reached the dragons, there was no time to. They worked side by side to feed them, and when they were finally finished, it was mid day, and the sun was hot. They were both sweating, and they sat down, their backs against a thick oak. Hagrid pulled two flasks out of an inner pocket of his cloak, passing one to Charlie silently. After they'd gulped the liquid, Charlie sighed.

"Thanks for letting me help out again, Hagrid," he said quietly.

Hagrid nodded, continuing to stare straight ahead. For a long time, Charlie thought he wasn't going to say anything, but then he spoke.

"I'd imagine yeh'd want ter be getting' out of yer house once in a while," he said.

Charlie nodded. Even with Hagrid not looking at him, he knew that he saw. Charlie cleared his throat before saying, "It's – it's different around there now."

Now Hagrid sighed. "I'm sure it is," he said gruffly.

There was a longer silence, and then Charlie said, "I don't know how I'm supposed to be acting now, you know? Bill's the oldest. He's in charge. And Ron's the youngest. No one's going to say anything if he doesn't come out of his room. But …"

He trailed off. He didn't know what he was trying to say, but it didn't matter now either. His throat was closing up, and more words were impossible.

There was an even longer silence before Hagrid said, "Yeh jus' have to be there fer yer Mum. That's all you have to do. That's all yer _Dad_ would have wanted yeh to do."

Charlie sat very still, gazing straight ahead. His breathing was labored, and he knew Hagrid could hear it, but Hagrid also continued to stare straight ahead as well, and Charlie finally reached up to massage the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his mouth. He let out a shuddering breath and then another before he said, his voice very low, "I don't know how to do that."

Hagrid shook his head. "Sure yeh do. Yer jus' afraid. But yer mum understands. She understands a lot. Don' worry about that."

But Charlie shook his head. "It's just – there's no time to be afraid now. She needs all of us, and I can't be in that house. I can't…"

The tears slipped down his face, and he was afraid to swipe at them, afraid Hagrid would notice, but Hagrid kept his face studiously turned toward the dragons, and Charlie hurriedly brushed them away. He fought to keep his breath steady and was relieved when Hagrid spoke again.

"Yeh, you can. You are brave enough, Charlie. Yer a Gryffindor an' a dragon tamer an' a Weasley. I can hardly think of a better combination."

Charlie felt the tightness in his chest start to ease, and he glanced at Hagrid out of the corner of his eye.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, and Hagrid nodded as he got to his feet.

"I'd better be gettin' back, Charlie. Are yeh comin'?"

In response, Charlie got to his feet, and Hagrid lumbered to his own. Neither of them looked at each other as they walked side by side back to the hut. When they arrived at the door, Charlie started to turn away, but Hagrid's voice stopped him.

"Will yeh be back again?" he asked tentatively, and Charlie kept his back to him even as he shook his head.

"I think I should stick around the Burrow for now," he said evenly. "My – my mum might need me." As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow, Hagrid" and even more quietly, "Thanks."

"No problem'," Hagrid called after him. He watched him go and shook his head sadly. It was hard enough for him to believe that Arthur Weasley was gone. He didn't want to think about what it must be like for the rest of his family if this were how _Charlie, _of all people, was taking the news.

* * *

Charlie got back to the Burrow in the middle of the afternoon. The only people he found when he walked into the living room were Harry and Hermione, in spite of his mother's predictions of plenty of guests, and they were sitting over a piece of paper with their heads together. They looked up when he walked in, but then they looked at each other nervously.

Charlie sighed. "Where is everyone?" he asked, and Hermione said quickly, "In their rooms. I'm not sure where your mum is."

He nodded. "Ron?" he asked, and her eyes clouded over as she shook her head. He ran his hands through his hair before he said, "You're sure Mum's not up there with him?"

Hermione shook her head. "He still has the impenetrable charm on the door. He's not – he's not letting anyone in."

She bit her lip and looked back down at the paper, and Charlie suddenly found himself putting his hand on her shoulder.

She didn't look back up, and he only left it there for a moment until he let go and moved toward the stairs. He suddenly knew where to find his Mum.

She was sitting on the floor next to Ron's door, and she looked up at Charlie as he approached her. Her expression seemed to lighten when she saw him, and he felt the familiar stab of guilt when he realized that he was the reason for one of the worry lines between her eyes.

"Hi Mum," he whispered, sliding down to sit beside her. He put his hand on the floor, and she watched it before putting hers next to his.

"Where have you been, Charlie?" she asked, and he let out a deep breath.

"Nowhere, really. Just helping out a friend."

Molly nodded. After a moment, she said, "Is your friend ok now?"

"Yes. He's -- he'll be ok. Thanks."

"Will you – will you be here now?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes," he whispered. Now her hand found his, and he squeezed hers tightly as he turned to her suddenly.

"I'm sorry, Mum," he said, and his voice broke. "I'm so sorry."

His face crumpled, and Molly reached out her arms as he fell into her. She held him for a long time. And Ron never opened his door.

**A/N: Kittyboosmom – you were the inspiration for this chapter. Thanks so much for knowing what Charlie needed. And I apologize to everyone for Hagrid's voice. There was nothing I dreaded more than writing it, but it had to be done. Please read and REVIEW! **


	41. A Door Opens

The sun went down on the Burrow on Sunday night, and it seemed to Molly as if dread had become a tangible presence in the house. The ticking of the clock seemed louder than ever as her children wandered around aimlessly. Well … except for Ron. Ron wasn't wandering. Ron was still in his room, his door tightly closed. Molly did sense, though, that his defenses were weakening. While the door remained impenetrable, he was no longer casting the muffliato charm. She was sure she could hear him now whenever she walked past.

They'd just finished pretending to eat dinner when the visitors started to arrive. The first were friends of Bill and Fleur's from Gringotts. They sat in the corner, talking quietly, and Molly was relieved to see that Bill was actually smiling. It was only a few minutes later when there was another knock on the door, and this time, Lee Jordan walked in. George gasped when he saw him, but before he could even get out of his chair, Lee was crossing the room in quick strides and then they were hugging tightly, Lee thumping George on the back.

"I'm really sorry, man," he whispered. George found that he couldn't even answer, and he merely hugged his friend even harder. When they finally let go, George had to turn away to hurriedly wipe his eyes. When he turned back, though, Lee was looking at him with complete understanding.

"Want to take a walk outside?" he asked, and George nodded silently. As the friends walked into the garden, Molly felt the tightness in her chest start to ease. Her children were lucky. They had good friends.

And it was only moments later when there was yet another tentative tapping on the door, and this time, Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood walked in. Harry and Hermione leapt to their feet, and Luna blinked in surprise when she found herself being hugged by both of them at once.

"Hello," she said quietly, patting each of them vaguely on the back. They released her then and sat on either side of her. She turned to Harry first and didn't say a word, just looked into his eyes. After a moment, he started to blink quickly, and then he looked at the floor. That was when she turned to Hermione and seemed to realize, for the first time, that someone was missing.

"Where's Ron?" she asked, and now Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She shrugged and sniffled.

"He's – he's in his room," she said, her voice wavering. "He hasn't come out in a couple of days."

"Oh," Luna said, her brow wrinkling in concern. "I see…"

For a moment, none of them said another word, and then Luna got to her feet.

"I'll be right back," she said quietly. Neither Harry nor Hermione could bring themselves to even look up to watch her go.

She passed her father where he was talking quietly with Molly, and she made her way up the stairs. She'd only been in this house once before, but it wasn't hard for her to remember which room was Ron's. This time, at any rate, it was the only one with the closed door. Once outside of it, she hardly hesitated a moment before knocking lightly. He didn't answer, and she rapped again, calling, "Ron? It's Luna."

She wasn't surprised when the door clicked and opened slightly. It was exactly what she'd expected. She pushed it the rest of the way and walked in. Ron was sitting on his bed, and he watched her as she took the only chair in the room. After a moment, he gestured with his wand, and the door swung shut. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. He still didn't speak. Luna looked at him steadily for a few minutes and noticed that his face seemed gaunt. She couldn't help but wonder when he'd last eaten.

She let a few more minutes of silence pass before she said gently, "Hermione's worried about you. She said you haven't been out of here in days."

He shrugged and still didn't open his eyes. After a moment, he said, his voice almost rusty from lack of use, "Well, I didn't feel like seeing anyone."

Luna nodded slowly even though he couldn't see her. Her voice thoughtful, she said, "It's funny, you know. When my mum died, the only thing I wanted was to be with my dad. I mean I can understand why you'd want to be alone, but that was the last thing I wanted."

Now Ron did open his eyes. He stared at her for a moment, and then he asked, "How – how old were you?"

Luna's eyes were wide behind her glasses. "Nine," she said softly.

Ron nodded. "Nine," he muttered almost to himself. He shook his head. "You were nine, and you sat with your dad. I'm nineteen, and I can't leave my room." His voice was bitter, but Luna knew what she was hearing just beneath the surface. As he watched her, she stood up slowly and moved to sit on the end of his bed. For a long time, neither of them said anything else, and then Luna said softly, "You don't have anything to be ashamed of. We all handle these things differently. You're allowed to not want to see anyone."

Now he shook his head. "It's not that I don't want to see anyone," he said, and he knew she could hear how strained his voice was. He looked away as he added almost inaudibly, "I just want to see my dad."

The tears that he'd been trying to keep back ever since she'd entered the room welled up in his eyes, and he bit his lip even as he kept his face turned to the wall. Luna didn't say another word, though. She merely patted his leg and stared straight ahead, giving him time to take a few shuddering breaths. Once his breathing was calmer, Luna said, "I know. I still wish I could see my mum sometimes. But I know she's there watching me, and I know I'll see her again someday. You'll see your dad, too, Ron."

He still couldn't look at her, and another few minutes passed before Luna asked, "Are you ready to come downstairs now?"

When Ron didn't answer, she turned to him and found that he'd turned beet red.

"I don't know if they want to see _me_," he whispered, and she stared at him in surprise.

"Of course they do," she said slowly. "I already told you – they're very worried."

But he shook his head. "I've caused them so many more problems than they needed," he said, and his voice dripped with shame. "I've been so selfish."

Luna put her hand on his leg again. "Ron," she said softly, and now he looked at her, forgetting that his eyes were red and swollen. Her voice was so steady and so soothing that he inexplicably found himself breathing more easily.

She said firmly, "You haven't been selfish. You've been sad. But – I think it's time now for you to be sad with everyone else. All right?"

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding slowly.

"All right," he said.

When they walked down the stairs, Molly's eyes widened, and Hermione caught her breath, but no one said a word. Ron and Luna joined Harry and Hermione in their self-designated corner of the living room, and until Luna and her father left, the four friends talked about everything other than the reason why they were all there.

* * *

Harry went back to Ron's room that night, but he went alone because Hermione had taken Ron's hand and pulled him outside the moment Luna had gone. Ginny was sitting alone on the bench when they walked out, but the moment she saw them, she disappeared in a flash. Ron looked at Hermione in confusion, but she shook her head and merely pulled him deeper into the grove.

Then she turned to him, took his face in her hands, and kissed him deeply. After a long time, she pulled away, and Ron asked breathlessly, "What – what was that for?"

Hermione shook her head. "All I've been wanting for days is to make you feel better. I couldn't think of any other way to do it."

Ron stared at her, and Hermione felt her stomach flip over when his eyes started welling up. After a moment, he turned away, stomping his foot.

"Damn it," he muttered. He blew out his breath and swiped furiously at his eyes. Keeping his back to her, he mumbled, "This – this is why I didn't want to leave my room. I can't – I can't make it stop."

He didn't turn back, but she could hear the desperation in his voice to understand his sudden inability to control his emotions, and she took a step forward, putting her hand on his back.

"I don't mind," she whispered, but he stiffened.

"Well, I do," he said shortly. He swallowed hard and finally turned back. His eyes were red but dry, and he said flatly, "Let's go back in. I'm fine. But thanks – thanks for worrying."

She stared at him and then nodded slowly, trying to blink back the tears that were now filling her own eyes. It wasn't like he hadn't let her help him before, so why not now? She didn't understand him. In fact, she was becoming fairly certain she'd _never _understand him.

* * *

Hermione went directly to Ginny's room when they went back inside, and Ron was about to go back to his own when he realized that his mother was watching him quietly from where she was sitting in his father's armchair. He stopped before her, and they looked at one another for a long time before he finally mumbled, "I'm – I'm sorry, Mum."

Molly nodded. For a moment, he thought she wasn't going to say anything, but then she said, "I know you're sad, Ron. Just remember, please – we all are. And this family helps each other. Don't – don't close us out again, all right?"

His ears were scarlet, and he couldn't look at her, but he nodded quickly.

"I won't," he mumbled. "I promise."

She sighed and decided not to push him any further right now. "Ok. Go try to get some sleep. Tomorrow – well, it's going to be a long day."

He didn't need another invitation, and he bolted for his room. Harry was lying on his cot, and he seemed to be reading from a raggedy sheet of parchment, but he stowed it quickly when Ron walked in. Neither of them said anything until Ron was settled in his own bed, and that's when he mumbled, "I'm – I'm sorry, Harry."

For a long moment, Harry lay frozen. Finally, he managed to say, his voice very low, "You don't have anything to apologize for."

Ron sighed, and he turned over so his face was to the wall.

"Yes, I do," he said. "You were sleeping on the couch for the past two days. At any rate, I can apologize for that."

Harry sighed too. "No, you can't. I didn't mind. Your mum was mad at me for not even trying to knock, though. You _could _apologize to her if it would make you feel better."

There was a long silence, and then Ron mumbled, "I just did. She – she must have been really worried, huh?"

Harry didn't know what to say. To answer truthfully would only make Ron feel worse, and he was feeling bad enough already. Finally, he said carefully, "She understood that you needed time. Of course she was worried, but when has your mum ever not worried about you? She gets it, though. You know she does."

Ron did know. But that didn't make this any easier, and it was a long time before he was able to say another word. And his next question was the last one Harry expected.

"Who – who's giving the eulogy?" he asked, and Harry couldn't miss how hoarse his voice suddenly was. He shifted uncomfortably on his cot before he finally whispered, "I – I am. With Hermione. It was her idea."

Ron made a muffled noise that seemed to indicate his approval, and then he choked, "Thanks."

Harry's own throat was tight, and he only managed a short, "Mmhmm" before he turned over so he was no longer facing Ron.

Neither of them spoke again. They tossed and turned for the rest of the night, and even though both worried that the other might hear his occasional sniffling, neither said a word about it. And Ron realized that he was glad to have Harry there again. He was glad Luna made him open the door.

**A/N: I couldn't let everyone worry about Ron a moment longer. But the next chapter's going to be the funeral, so there is definitely still time to worry… Please read and REVIEW!!**


	42. Funeral 1

_A/N: A quick one at the top because I'm nicer than you are: a big bowl of M&M's for Lisa. Expect another for the next chapter._

When Ron woke up the next morning, he didn't know where he was, and he certainly didn't recognize the strange sounds he was hearing. When he glanced over and saw Harry asleep on the cot across the room, he got his bearings back, but the sounds … where were those sounds coming from?

Quietly, so as not to disturb Harry, he got out of bed and slipped out of the room. It seemed as if the noises were coming from below him, so he made his way down the stairs, taking care to avoid the ones that creaked. It was pretty clear that just about everyone else was still asleep and – as he glanced at his watch and yawned – he could understand why. It was only 6:00 in the morning. The sun was the only thing that should be up this early.

Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he stumbled into the living room – and stopped short. Ginny was… she was… his brain couldn't even form the words. But his eyes couldn't deny what he was seeing. She was curled up in their father's armchair, her arms wrapped around a pillow, and her shoulders were shaking violently. It was clear that she was trying to muffle her sobs in the pillow, but it was only half working.

Ron felt as if he were frozen. He couldn't do this. He wasn't _ready_. And – and he wasn't the person Ginny needed right now. She needed Harry. Didn't she? But… he swallowed hard. Maybe – maybe she needed someone who understood. Maybe – maybe it didn't matter that he wasn't ready. But – he thought hopelessly – maybe one of their other brothers could help more. Maybe he should go get Bill … or George…

He took a step backwards very slowly and then stopped. Ginny was looking at him.

"I – I miss him," she croaked. "I don't know. I don't – I don't know…" She was mumbling now, and Ron wondered whether she even knew he could hear her. Slowly, he took a step closer to her, and she closed her eyes as more tears ran down her face. It wasn't until he was standing next to the chair that she opened her eyes again. This time, he knew she could see him, and she choked out, "I didn't close my door. But – but I haven't talked to anyone either."

Ron nodded slowly. He cleared his throat, hoping that would dislodge the words that seemed to be stuck there. It partially worked.

"I – I did close my door," he managed to whisper. "I don't think – I don't know what to do either. But Mum said that we – that this family – that we help each other. Maybe that's what we need to do."

Ginny sighed and leaned her head back against the chair, drawing her hand across her eyes even as the tears continued to flow.

"I don't know how to do that," she whispered, no longer looking at her brother.

Ron stared at her then, before perching tentatively on the arm of the chair and hesitantly putting his arm around her.

"I think it's like this," he said, and Ginny stiffened in surprise before suddenly turning and hiding her face in the side of his Chudley Cannon's t-shirt. He patted her awkwardly as he stared across the room. If he didn't listen, and if he pretended to be somewhere else, then he could do this. He could do this…

* * *

Ginny didn't go back to sleep that morning. Ron sort of pushed her in the direction of her room when they went back up the stairs, but she shook her head, opting to shower instead. As the warm water enveloped her, she felt the tears welling up again, and this time, she gave into them entirely, hoping the sounds of the shower would mask the sounds of her tears. In the back of her mind, of course, she knew they wouldn't. It hadn't worked for her brothers all week, after all, even if she would never tell them that.

When she finally came out, Percy was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom, his head against the wall and his eyes closed, but he opened them as she passed. One look at him showed his sister that he was desperate for a shower for the very reasons she had been, and even as he tried to smile at her, his lower lip trembled dangerously, and he quickly went inside and shut the door. Ginny was almost back to her room, the water just turned on, when she heard a deep, shuddering sob. She shivered. This wasn't going to be an easy day – not at all.

* * *

George rolled over and opened his eyes, knowing it was the sound of the shower running that had woken him out of his restless sleep. His dream … in his dream, he and Fred had been sitting together at the Gryffindor table at Hogwarts, and they'd just managed to slip a few ton-tongued toffees to the Slytherins. Everyone was laughing at the look on Vincent Crabbe's face when Fred suddenly turned to him, his face completely expressionless, and said, "He's dead now, too, you know."

George felt sweaty and clammy. Why – _why _would he dream something like that? And then the sound of the shower mingled with another awful, all-too familiar sound – so it was Percy in there this time, George thought briefly – and he knew why. It was this day. It was going to be awful. He closed his eyes again. He hoped Percy would hurry. He – he didn't know if he'd be able to hold out much longer.

* * *

Fleur's eyes were open, and she was staring at the ceiling when Bill finally woke up. He turned over and started with surprise before giving her a small smile.

"Morning," he mumbled and pulled her close. She relaxed in his arms, and for a few minutes, they just laid there together until Bill muttered, "the shower again, huh?"

Fleur sighed and nodded slightly.

"I sink eet ees Percy zis time."

Bill listened for a moment, and then his face twisted with sympathy as he nodded.

"You're right. But the water's been running for a while. Was someone else already in there?"

Now Fleur grimaced, knowing how much this one would hurt.

"Eet – eet was Ginny," she said softly. Bill stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly, and he closed his eyes again then, but she'd seen the pain in them. She snuggled as close as their baby would allow and whispered, "We weel all 'elp 'er today. She – she weel be ok."

Bill nodded again, but he couldn't answer her. And he couldn't tell her the only thing he was thinking right now because it would hurt her. He hoped Percy would hurry. He wanted – no, he needed the time to himself, too.

* * *

Charlie had heard Ginny that morning as well. And he could hear Percy now. But he couldn't bring himself to go downstairs. In fact, he was starting to develop a greater understanding of Ron than he'd ever had before. He knew he'd give everything to not leave his room this day.

He rolled over and punched his pillow. He'd only been to two funerals that had really impacted him. Tonks's funeral had been one thing – she was someone he'd thought he'd loved when he was a teenager, and while it was incredibly sad to stand there and realize that she'd never live a life he'd always thought she'd deserved, he knew she'd found happiness and had made the choice to do this.

Fred's funeral, though … a shiver ran down his spine as he remembered that gloomy day. It had been the hardest day of his life, harder even, than the moment he'd gotten to Hogwarts and realized he was too late to say goodbye. Because that was when he realized that Fred was never ever coming back, and even he couldn't control his tears as much as he tried to hide them. He shivered again. Today … today might even be worse.

He swallowed hard. Percy had to be finished soon. He just had to.

* * *

Harry was still asleep when Ron got back to the room and climbed back into his bed. Well, Ron thought he was. As soon as Ron's breathing became measured again, Harry sighed deeply and opened his eyes, fishing under the cot for his copy of the eulogy.

Another funeral … another eulogy … when the Battle of Hogwarts had ended, Harry had promised himself that he would never do this again, and yet here he was, and this one – _this _one – he swallowed hard. He was scared. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all Hermione, who seemed to have gotten cold feet herself last night, but he was terrified of a few things. He was terrified that his voice wouldn't work at all. He was terrified that if it did, Ginny and Ron and everyone would hate what he had to say and would think he had no business saying it. He was terrified that he would let Hermione down. But most of all, he was terrified that he just wouldn't be able to do it – that he would start crying in front of everyone and not be able to go on.

It was the first time in his life when all of these things seemed like a very real possibility, and he felt sick just thinking about it.

* * *

When Ginny walked into her room, she wasn't surprised to find Hermione awake, studying the parchment that she knew contained the one thing she _really _did not want to hear today. She pretended she didn't notice it, though, as she fished around for clothes to wear for the day.

She turned back around to find that Hermione was watching her, and she tried to smile but failed miserably. Hermione's own eyes were tired, and she merely said, "I don't want to wear all black. Are you going to?"

Ginny shook her head. "Dad hates – hated – hates black," she stuttered, and then she had to bite her lip and turn back to her clothes. Her head down, she said, "I still don't know how to say it."

Hermione sighed and got off her cot. Ginny stiffened, thinking Hermione was going to come over to her, but Hermione had learned her lesson well the night before. She merely went to her trunk and started going through her own things. A few minutes of quiet between the girls calmed Ginny enough for her to say, "I think I'll wear a black skirt, but I'll also wear my green top. It's his favorite."

Hermione nodded and turned then, holding up a black skirt of her own and an orange top.

"Do you think this would be all right?" she asked, and Ginny smiled slightly.

"I think it's great," she said truthfully. "You're the only one in this house who can wear orange and get away with it. Go for it."

Hermione's own lips twitched, but she merely nodded as she turned and pulled her nightshirt over her head. Ginny began to get dressed as well, but it was when she sat down to pull on her shoes that her hands started shaking violently.

"Her – Hermione," she said, and her voice was low and urgent. Hermione turned around in surprise, but when she saw Ginny's problem, she merely knelt at her friend's feet and helped her on with her shoes. For a moment, she stayed there, and then she got up without saying a word. Ginny sat and stared at her hands, willing them to stop shaking, and when they did, she and Hermione went silently down the stairs.

* * *

Molly was in the kitchen while her children were getting ready upstairs. She hoped none of them knew that she wasn't really sleeping at night anymore, but she would have been more surprised if they didn't. It wasn't an easy family to keep secrets in, this one, and for the most part, she was glad of it. But they had enough to think about right now.

When the shower finally shut off for the day, she knew that she could expect them all downstairs, but she wondered, for the first time in her life, whether it was worth making anything for breakfast. She 

knew she wouldn't eat, and she couldn't imagine any of her kids would have much of an appetite today either if memory of Fred's funeral were any indication.

It was the first time any of the Weasley kids could remember descending the stairs to a cold, empty house. There was no smell of food, and the only person waiting for them in the living room was their mother.

For a long time, none of them spoke. They stood there uncomfortably in their dark clothing and shuffled their feet, only occasionally making eye contact with one another.

Molly looked around and felt despair welling up in her, but she merely said quietly, "We should get outside. Everyone will be here soon."

No one said a word as they moved toward the door. Molly, however, did note with concern how pale both Harry and Hermione looked, and she wondered momentarily if she ought to have accepted their offer to give the eulogy. She'd only been grateful when they'd said they would, especially considering how impossible she knew it would be for any of the others. She hadn't let herself think, though, how hard it would be for these two. She shook her head. There was nothing to do for it now. At least they'd be doing it together.

* * *

The sight of the chairs in rows once again immediately set Percy blinking hard and staring at the ground. George could hear his brother's struggle to breathe evenly, and he inched closer to him.

"You ok, Perce?" he asked quietly, but Percy shook his head, not daring to look up. One look at any of them now would be the end of him. He did not, however, expect George to put his arm around him. He started shivering with the effort to keep himself together as George led him to the front row of seats, helping him to a place on the end. "Let's sit here," he said quietly. "This way, we can leave as soon as it's done if we need – want to."

Percy tried to smile, but he could only nod slightly, still staring at his lap. He wouldn't open his mouth today. He couldn't. He just hoped his mother wouldn't sit on his other side. He knew it was selfish and unfair, but he didn't think he could handle her pain too.

He was lucky. The next person to slide into his row was Charlie, who was quickly followed by Fleur and Bill. Ron took the seat next to Bill's and Ginny slipped in beside him with Harry to her right and Hermione conspicuously beside him – and away from Ron. Molly sat on the end beside Hermione, and she couldn't help but notice the odd configuration, but she could see from the looks on each of their faces that this was something she did not want to question. She sighed and turned to see the other rows filling. This wasn't something she had time to worry about right now anyway.

The wait seemed interminable. After another 20 minutes had gone by, George leaned forward.

"Mum," he hissed. "Are we ever going to get started?"

She stared at him for a moment and then said quietly, "George, turn around."

He did. He did, and he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Because the rows were all full, and more and more people were apparating in. He recognized a lot of them, but there were so many he didn't know, and when he turned back to his mother, his eyes were bright.

"I – I didn't know," he whispered, and she smiled at him sadly.

"A lot of people loved your father. You did know that."

He nodded slowly, and then he had to look away. He couldn't believe that there were this many people there. And now his siblings had started to turn, too, to see what George had seen, and when they turned back, he recognized the looks on their faces. If only their father could have seen how much he'd meant to so many people…

Another 40 minutes passed before the service could finally start, and the officiating wizard stood before the assembled crowd, waiting for the murmuring to fade out. Then he pointed his wand to his throat and began to speak.

"We are all here to celebrate the life of Arthur Weasley," he said.

_Arthur Weasley_ … It was the name. It was always the name that made it impossible to pretend he was anywhere else, and Charlie felt his shoulders tighten. He tried to take a deep breath and found it hitching in his chest. _No_, he told himself sternly. _You can do this_.

"As you can all see by the crowd we have here today, Arthur was known by so many and for so many reasons. As a ministry official, he did what he loved, and he helped to shape this world of peace that we now live in. That's not all he did, though…"

_Did… did_… _but "did" is past tense. This is Dad… why are we talking about him in the past tense?_ Bill's mind was racing, and he held Fleur's hand even more tightly. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to sit here, to do this.

"He was also a beloved friend to so many. As a true Gryffindor from his days at Hogwarts, Arthur not only showed his bravery and loyalty through his membership in the prestigious Order of the Phoenix, but he showed incredible love and loyalty through his long marriage to Molly Prewett and to the seven children they raised."

_Seven_… _but we're not seven anymore_, _and he's not here to raise us,_ George thought, and the lump that rose in his throat threatened to choke him. He tried to swallow around it, but it was almost impossible. He sighed shakily. He just had to keep taking deep breaths. He could do this.

"I am not the best person to speak about Arthur, but we have two people today who are much more qualified than I. For the eulogy, we have Hermione Granger and Harry Potter to give us a few words about Arthur."

Harry felt as if all of the color drained from his face, and when he looked at Hermione, he knew that she felt the same way. But neither of them said a word as they got to their feet and walked slowly to the podium. It was time.

**A/N: I'm sorry to stop it here. I know this is longer than any chapter I've written so far, but there's more to go, so I figured I'd spread the sadness around a little. The funeral will only take one more chapter, though, after this. Please read and review. It's the best encouragement I have to continue updating so quickly. **


	43. Funeral 2

_A/N: Lisa, I leave you a whole plate of brownies stuffed with M&M's. Consider yourself warned._

It felt like millions of people were staring at them, but the first thing Harry noticed was that Ron wasn't. None of his brothers were either. Ginny was, though he wasn't too sure she was actually seeing them. Harry wished he were still sitting beside her because now all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and protect her from all of this. But he was a few feet away, and he might as well have been in another country.

He heard Hermione's rapid breathing beside him, and he knew she was about to start. He was glad they'd agreed that she would go first. He knew he'd never have been able to just start talking, and he also wanted to be able to sit down as soon as he was through. He stared down at the podium as Hermione took one last deep breath and started to speak.

"This is probably the hardest speech I'll ever have to give," she began, her voice high and shaky, "because it's about Arthur Weasley. Arthur was… well, he was a lot of things to a lot of people. In the Order of the Phoenix, he was a brave soldier, a Gryffindor in the truest sense of the word. In the Ministry of Magic, he was someone who understood that witches and muggles can co-exist peacefully and even learn from each other. I know that firsthand. More important, though, than all of these things is that in this house, he was a husband and a father. I've had the unbelievable good fortune to have practically lived in this house for the past nine years, and if I've learned anything from being here so often, it's how to make a marriage work. Arthur and Molly were married for over 30 years, and I've never seen two people more in love. And even though it's hard for all of us to imagine the Burrow – or Molly – without Arthur, the strength of his love will make both of them stronger. It will make all of us stronger."

She wanted to say more. She was supposed to say more. But her voice broke, and then the tears started rolling down her face. She pulled her hand from where she'd been gripping Harry's and – contrary to everything she'd promised him – she stumbled from the podium. Instead of going back to her seat, though, she moved blindly toward the row behind the Weasleys, and Harry suddenly realized that Mr. and Mrs. Granger were there too as they enfolded their daughter in their arms. Even from his lonely spot at the podium, he could see how violently her shoulders were shaking, and he swallowed hard. Alone… he had to do this alone…

And he had to do this now. Everyone had turned their attention back to him, and even though Ron, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill still weren't looking at him, he knew they were listening. He let out a deep breath. It was time.

He looked out at the crowd for a moment, and they stared back at him. Then he glanced down at the piece of paper again before realizing that he didn't need it. He knew what he was going to say.

"He saw me as Harry," he said simply. He shook his head at the memory. "The first time I came here, Fred and George and Ron picked me up in a certain … car. And Arthur was much more interested in how well the car had run than the fact that _the _Harry Potter was at his kitchen table. To him, I was Ron's friend, and that was all. The only reason he ever paid any extra attention to me was because I could teach him about muggle appliances."

An image floated through his mind, then, of Arthur's face lit up with excitement as Harry tried to explain the inner workings of the telephone. His mouth twisted as he felt the lump rise in his throat, and he gripped the sides of the podium tightly. He had to finish this. He just had to.

"His family was the most important thing he ever did, and I know that's what his kids would say if they were standing here. Hermione already said that Arthur was so many things to so many people, but to me, he'll always be the only man who I would have ever had a chance to call Dad. It's a name I've never used, and now I never will. If there is anyone in this world who deserves the title of Dad, it is Arthur Weasley."

His eyes were burning, and he knew he had to sit before he humiliated himself. Keeping his head down, he moved quickly back to his seat. The moment he sat down, he gripped the sides of the chair and concentrated on breathing. Ginny was staring straight ahead once again, and the officiating wizard was speaking, but he hardly heard a word of it.

Ron concentrated on staring straight ahead as well. He wouldn't look towards Harry, and he certainly wouldn't turn and look at Hermione. He glanced at Bill, but the look of misery on his oldest brother's face caused him to choke on an unexpected sob. He pressed his lips together tightly and a shudder shook him. No. He didn't have to give into this. In just a few more minutes, this would be over. It would all be over… but he couldn't seem to stop shaking. Why couldn't he stop shaking…

Bill hardly noticed what his little brother was going through. He was too busy trying to breathe normally and blink his eyes clear. But whenever he thought they were, they clouded up again. And it didn't help to hear Charlie's quick, gasping breaths just a seat away. He squeezed Fleur's hand as tightly as he dared, and she turned to him then. He knew his voice wouldn't work, so he gestured with his chin in Charlie's direction. She hardly had to ask what he needed for her to do, and she slowly rested a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie stopped gasping for air. For a moment, he thought he'd actually stopped breathing. No one was supposed to touch him now. If someone touched him, he would cry, and he couldn't do that here, not in front of all of these people. But Fleur's hand was on his shoulder, and suddenly, he found himself hunching over, his head cradled in his hands, as the knot in his chest dissolved.

Those noises… George stiffened in shock. They were – they were coming from _Charlie_, and suddenly, the tears he'd managed to fight for the entire service were brimming in his own eyes. He tried to blink, but then they were dripping onto his robes, and he – well, no. Those whimpering noises couldn't be coming from _him_. But they were. The tears flowed faster, and he covered his face with his hands.

Percy kept his face turned toward the garden, and the silent tears that were rolling down his cheeks showed no sign of stopping. He swiped at them futilely but knew there was no point. They weren't going to stop any time soon. In fact, he didn't know if they ever would...

"And now it is time for us to say goodbye to Arthur Weasley."

Molly was the first to stand. Her eyes fixed on the coffin, she pressed her hand to her heart. In her mind, she could hear Arthur's voice.

"_It's ok, Mollywobbles_ ... _Everything will be ok. Stop expecting the worst_."

But this _was_ the worst, she thought, and she felt as though her heart were being ripped in two. Her eyes blurry, she pressed a handkerchief to her mouth to prevent her lips from trembling.

_I love you, Arthur Weasley,_ she found herself thinking, and then the tears spilled over. She could never say those words aloud again and actually hear a response. She would never hear him again.

A strong arm encircled her then, and she was stunned to find that it was Ron. Her youngest was wound so tightly that he was practically trembling, but he helped her from the row and back up the aisle. She was vaguely aware of the rest of her children following, and then they were outside the boundaries and apparating to the graveyard. Bill was gone with Fleur and Charlie, quickly followed by Harry and Ginny, and then Percy and George. Finally, the only person left with her was Ron. They looked at one another, and she suddenly realized that he looked ashamed. He managed to whisper, "I – I think I might splinch myself, Mum. Will you help me?"

She almost took his arm when she realized that Hermione wasn't there.

"Why don't you go with Hermione?" she asked, and he shrugged, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I'm sure she's with her parents," he muttered. "She has to help them get there."

Molly knew there was something very wrong with this but once again didn't have time to get to the root of it. She merely took her son's arm, turned, and moments later, they were in a place that was all-too familiar.

The only people there other than the officiating wizard were Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ginny, Harry, Hermione and her parents. Molly had wanted a private burial, and no one had argued. The rest of their guests would be waiting for them back at the Burrow. And one look at George convinced his mother that she'd made the right decision. He was already kneeling in front of the grave, tears running down his face.

Ginny suddenly left Harry's side and knelt beside her brother, wrapping her arms around him. As the burial service got underway, it was interrupted by the sniffling that none of them could even try any longer to control. Except for Ron. He stood by himself on the outside of the circle, shivering, and he was still there when the service ended.

As the last of the dirt dropped into the grave, Arthur's children approached the grave to silently say their goodbyes. Bill disapparated before any of his siblings could register the tears that were in his eyes, taking Fleur with him, and Charlie and Percy followed quickly behind. George didn't seem as if he'd ever want to leave, but Ginny looked into his eyes and knew he had to. She got to her feet and then reached down and pulled him up, side alonging him back to the Burrow.

Molly looked then at the Grangers and noticed that Hermione was staring at Ron, who seemed completely oblivious to her attention.

"Carol, Richard, if you come with me, I'll help you get back," she said quietly, and they nodded quickly. As the three parents popped out of existence, none of them realized that they were leaving behind three, not two.

Harry, Ron and Hermione knew they were the only ones left. And not one of them knew what to say.

**A/N: I made myself cry writing this. There's obviously more to this day, but the next chapter shouldn't take as long to write as this one did. Famous last words, I know. Please read and REVIEW. I really appreciated all of the feedback on the last chapter.**


	44. Graveyard 2

For a long time, the three friends stood before the grave. None of them moved, and none of them spoke. Harry wasn't sure how long they were standing there when Hermione mumbled, "I'm sorry, Harry. I know I promised to stay up there with you, but …"

He shook his head before she could finish and said, "It's all right. You did a good job. I understood."

But when he glanced at her, he saw that she was hardly listening to him. Her attention was completely focused on Ron, and he didn't even think she knew it. Slowly, he turned his eyes to his best friend … and swallowed hard.

Ron wasn't crying. If he'd been crying, Harry thought, ironically, he might feel better about all of this. But he wasn't. He was shivering although the day was warm, and he was staring at the grave. Harry wondered if he'd ever be able to look away.

Hermione hated feeling helpless, but she was starting to get used to it. She knew that one of them needed to do something now, but she didn't know what. And she had a sinking feeling that it had better be Harry.

Slowly, hoping Ron wouldn't notice, she edged closer to Harry and put her hand on his arm. He looked at her, and she knew immediately that he understood.

He sighed. He did understand. But that didn't make any of this any easier.

"So … when do you think you'll be ready to go back, mate?" Harry asked quietly, hoping to get some sort of response. But Ron wouldn't – or couldn't – look at him. He continued to stare at the grave, hoping they would take the hint and just _leave_. He appreciated their being there. He did. But he just … well, he couldn't hold on for much longer. They really needed to go.

Harry looked at Hermione and shrugged slightly. He didn't know what to do to get Ron talking. If there were one thing he'd learned from their many years of friendship, it was that he shouldn't push Ron to talk if he didn't want to. He'd be as apt to end up with a bloody nose as a meaningful conversation.

Hermione sighed. As much as she didn't want to, she found herself taking a small step forward. There didn't seem to be much of a choice.

"Ron?" she asked tentatively, and neither she nor Harry could miss the way his entire body tensed at the sound of her voice. She fell back as if she'd been punched, but Harry didn't. He'd seen something she hadn't. Ron was biting his lip so hard that it looked as though he might draw blood – and Harry was sure he understood why.

Hermione turned to Harry then, and her eyes were full of tears.

"He doesn't want my help," she mouthed almost soundlessly, but Harry shook his head and gestured to where Ron was now blinking rapidly and still trembling.

"Yes," he whispered. "He does."

His voice was very low, and he felt as if he were taking his life into his hands, but he stepped as close to his best friend as he dared and said, "Ron, we miss him, too. And – and I know how hard it can be. I really do."

Ron felt as if he were going to explode. He turned to Harry, and it was on the tip of his tongue to say that he couldn't possibly understand, that he hadn't even _known _his parents, but … his voice wouldn't work. He opened his mouth, and his throat closed, and to his horror, his eyes filled with tears. He turned away quickly, hoping futilely that neither Harry nor Hermione had noticed, but it didn't matter anymore. Because the sobs he'd been holding down since the Burrow erupted suddenly, he found himself sinking to his knees and wishing more than _anything_ that they'd just go now and leave him alone. He just wanted to be alone.

"You didn't let me go through these things alone, and we're not going to let you do it either."

It was Harry, and his voice was matter-of-fact as he knelt beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Ron tried to breathe deeply, but his breath caught in his throat, and he covered his face with his hands as a hitching sob escaped.

"I – I miss him," he somehow managed to say. He didn't expect them to understand him. He was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to understand himself. But he underestimated them.

"We do, too," Harry said softly, but his own voice wavered, and he winced. If he broke down now, too, he didn't know how he'd be able to help Ron. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He knew he could. But he couldn't do it without Hermione -- and neither could Ron.

Harry turned to her then, and he was stunned to see that she was watching them with silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She shook her head when he turned to her, but he continued to stare at her so pleadingly that she moved toward them almost against her will.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and knelt on Ron's other side.

"Harry's right," she said, trying mightily to keep her voice steady. She cleared her throat before she continued, and then she said, "We're not letting you do this by yourself, Ron. We loved your dad, and we love you. You have to know that by now."

But he shook his head, and he didn't stop shaking it until Hermione said, "_What?"_

"You … you said _loved_. You said you _loved_ him. That's – that's …"

He couldn't continue. He was starting to shiver again, and she suddenly understood.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. He didn't say anything still, and she said, uncertainly, "Ron?"

He couldn't look at her. He couldn't look at either of them. He felt incredibly stupid. He tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't support him, and then, without even knowing how it happened, he was in Hermione's arms, and he was hiding his face in her shirtfront. She was smoothing his hair but saying nothing and neither, mercifully, was Harry.

It was a long time before he managed to sit up and wipe his face. He studied the ground even as he muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," Harry and Hermione said in unison, and for a split second, the three of them smiled at each other.

Then Ron turned serious again, and he sighed, leaning against Hermione. He couldn't see her face, but he mumbled, "I do, you know … owe you an apology."

But she shook her head again and covered his mouth.

"Stop," she said softly, and her gentle touch caused more tears to spring to his eyes. He looked down at the ground, and for a long time, they sat in silence as he struggled to breathe evenly.

Finally, he was ready. He got to his feet and then reached down and pulled Hermione up as well. Harry pushed himself off the ground, and then the three of them turned to look at the headstone behind them. With his arm around Hermione, Ron stared at the words, and his eyes burned, and the lump was back in his throat again. He swallowed hard and turned slightly toward Harry.

"When does it get easier?" he choked, and Harry shook his head.

"I don't – I don't know," he said, his voice wavering again. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he flushed and swiped it away. He couldn't do this to Ron. He couldn't make this harder for him. But before he could disapparate, Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it tightly, and he let out a shaky breath. He cleared his throat. "It just does," he said, his voice low.

Ron nodded, but he continued to stare at the headstone. Finally, after brushing his hand quickly across his eyes, he said, "I'm ready."

* * *

They got back to the Burrow to find the house and garden overrun with people. The first person Ron saw was Molly, and clutching Hermione's hand tightly, he dragged her to his mother, leaving Harry standing by himself. It took Harry all of another 30 seconds to find Ginny. She was sitting in a clump of red heads he didn't recognize, and he could tell immediately that she would have rather been anywhere else.

This was one of the few things he could do for her. He made his way through the crowd and held out his hand wordlessly. For a moment, she just stared at him, and then she reached out slowly and put her hand in his. Without even thinking about where they were going, he pulled her through the crowds, and they soon found themselves outside. They dropped hands then, and it wasn't until they were deep into the orchard that Harry realized that Ginny had stopped moving. She leaned against the nearest tree and closed her eyes. He watched her, and there was that pain in his throat again.

Desperately, he wished he could leave, and then he hated himself for it. He felt like he was choking, and that was when she finally opened her eyes. She stared at him for a moment, and then she whispered, "Our wedding… who's – who's going to give me away at our wedding?"

It was the wrong question. It was the wrong question at the wrong time, and it was too much. Harry hardly even realized what he was doing as he stumbled away from her. He wanted to be there for her; he wanted to hold her; he wanted to be able to give her the right answer, but he couldn't do any of those things. All he could do was run and hope he would get away in time. He knew it wasn't fair. He knew he should stay. But there was only one place where he really needed to be right now.

Before Ginny realized what was happening, he was gone.

**A/N: I can't thank FinnFiona enough for her help with this chapter. Fi, you're really awesome. I don't think I'd have finished this otherwise. Please read and REVIEW. There's a lot more to come.**


	45. The Other Graveyard

_A/N: Godiva chocolate for Lisa. You might need it. And thanks for all of your help with this. _

Ginny hardly knew what had just happened. For a split second, she almost expected Harry to come back. It was only a split second, though. She realized almost as quickly that waiting was futile. She made her way back to the Burrow, almost running by the time she burst into the living room. For the first time in days, she was feeling something other than the crushing grief that had painted her last hours.

She looked around desperately for Ron and Hermione and was relieved to spot them immediately. They were sitting with George and Percy, and they were obviously talking about _something_, but she hardly spared her other brothers a glance as she stared directly at Ron and said, "I need you."

Ron gazed at her blankly for a moment, but Hermione heard the urgency in Ginny's voice, and she jumped to her feet, pulling him with her. Without a backward glance, Ginny walked out of the house, and they followed. Once they were out of earshot, Ginny explained what had just happened. Her voice was flat, but both her brother and friend could hear the fear just beneath the surface.

For a moment, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and then Hermione sighed and nodded slightly. Ron paled.

"You really think so?" he asked her, his voice low.

Hermione sighed. "Where else would he have gone?" she asked. Her hands were shaking, but her voice was steady. She reached over and grasped Ron's hand.

"We have to go get him," she said plainly, and it was clear that there was no room for argument. Ron merely nodded, and they had both started to move toward a disapparation point when Ginny's voice arrested them.

"Were you planning on telling _me _where you were going? Or am I not invited?"

Her voice was like ice, and Ron felt himself flushing with embarrassment as he turned to her quickly.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. She was right; he knew it, and he didn't have the energy or the time to argue anyway. He held out his hand to her. "Come with us," he said softly. "Harry – Harry's going to need you, I think."

Ginny looked at him and swallowed hard before putting her hand in his.

"Ok," she whispered. "Let's go."

It wasn't until she was being side alonged that she realized she had no idea where she was going.

* * *

Harry knew where the headstones were. Of course he did. They were the reason why he came here, obviously. But he couldn't bring himself to go near them quite yet. Instead, he found himself sitting on the ground in front of a tree. He could just barely glimpse the shining marble from where he sat, but he was ok with that for now.

He was just _so angry _with himself. How could he have done that to Ginny? How could he have just left her there right when she needed him most? What was _wrong _with him?

He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he got up. He had to take the few remaining steps.

The names… they never seemed real. How was it possible that these were the people who had sacrificed their lives so he could live, but he had no memories of them? He felt the familiar lump rising in his throat again and tried to breathe deeply. It wasn't working. His eyes blurred, and the tears he'd been holding back came at last. He let them fall. No one was there after all. No one was there…

"Arthur's gone." The words came out in a sob. He didn't even know why he was saying them. He wasn't the type to talk in graveyards, but he was alone, after all, and these _were _his parents.

He sniffled and drew his hand across his eyes. "You wouldn't think of him as gone. I guess, technically, he's actually with you. But – but I want all of you _here_. I mean… I never really had the chance to have you around, Dad. So Arthur – he did what you couldn't. He looked out for me, and he tried to steer me in the right direction. And – and I know you wouldn't have minded if I'd called him Dad after my wedding. But now I won't ever get to do that. And I really wanted to. I hope that wouldn't have hurt your feelings."

He let out a shuddering breath and wiped his eyes again. "I don't know how to do this," he said plaintively, and he found himself looking at his mother's name.

"I – I wish you were here. You'd know what I should do. You could tell me how I could help Ginny. Because I really don't know how I'm supposed to do that. It hurts so much, and I don't want to make her hurt even more. I want to help her, but I can hardly keep hold of myself. And there's no one who can help _me_."

The tears were flowing faster now, and his shoulders shook as he sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands. _This _was why he never wanted to come here. It hurt too much.

* * *

Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, and Hermione knew immediately that she would have to be the one to lead the way to where their friend was now huddled on the ground. She didn't even look behind her, just walked quietly to where she and Harry had once stood together on a cold winter night.

He didn't hear them at first. In fact, it wasn't until Hermione crouched down and put her hand on his shoulder that he had any idea that he wasn't alone. He raised his head slowly then, but he wouldn't look directly at her. He tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat.

No one spoke until Ginny said quietly, "You do help."

Harry froze. Hermione still had her hand on his shoulder, and she felt him go rigid at the sound of his fiancée's voice. And that was when he looked up the rest of the way.

It was as if Hermione and Ron had ceased to exist. Harry looked at Ginny, and Ginny looked at Harry, and she said huskily, "Your tears – they help."

His lip trembled even as he nodded, but he couldn't speak. His voice was stuck in his throat.

Ron looked from his best mate to his sister, and then he leaned close to Hermione and whispered, "I think we should go."

Hermione looked at him in surprise, but he wasn't looking at her. She turned to look at what he was seeing, and then she knew he was right. Ginny and Harry were staring at each other as though mesmerized. It was time for them to go.

* * *

Ginny waited until she heard the cracks that meant they were alone. Harry was staring at her, but his lip was still trembling, and his eyes were red and watery. She could hardly remember the last time she'd seen him like this, and she did the only thing she could think of.

Scooting closer on the ground, she wrapped her arms around him. For a long moment, he held himself perfectly still, and she wondered if they were back to square one. But then he whispered, "I'm sorry I left. I just…"

He trailed off and bit down hard on his lip, but Ginny tightened her grip on him.

"I'm sorry too," she said, looking over his shoulder at the headstone she'd only seen once before. The name Potter gleamed at her, and she whispered, "I heard you, you know. What you said to them. To your parents. You really did – you loved him. You – you wanted to call him Dad."

She wasn't asking. She didn't need to. Because Harry's shoulders had started to shake again, and he nodded against her as he choked, "I did. He was. I mean I had my own parents – but they couldn't do the things your dad did. He's the one who tried to look out for me before we knew the truth about Sirius. He took me to my hearing at the ministry. He – he did what Dads do. No one ever did that for me like he did. No one."

Ginny wanted to thank him. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him for loving her dad so much. She opened her mouth, but her voice didn't come out at all. She made a sound that was something of a cross between a word and a sob, and the tears that had been stinging her eyes were suddenly rolling down her cheeks.

And then they were holding each other so tightly that neither thought the other would ever let go. Neither of them knew how long they were kneeling before James and Lily's graves until their tears finally spent themselves.

Once they were calmer, Ginny scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, while Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

They looked at each other then, and Harry said softly, "I'm – I'm sure Bill would."

Ginny stared at him quizzically, and Harry let out another deep breath.

"Walk you down the aisle," he said carefully, and now he saw the understanding in her eyes.

She nodded and swallowed.

"I guess," she whispered. "I just wanted…"

She trailed off. There was no use in saying it. She didn't need to anyway. Because Harry was looking at her, and one look into his eyes told her one thing: he understood.

She got to her feet, and Harry quickly joined her. For a moment, they gazed at the marble before them, and then Ginny said softly, "Thank you."

Harry's throat closed at her words. He swallowed hard, and then he took her hand and led her to the gates. With one last glance behind him, he turned on his heel. It was time to go back.

**A/N: Harry needed his turn here, obviously, and I needed these couples to get along with each other. We're back to the rest of the family in the next chapters and how they're coping. Please read and REVIEW!**


	46. Back at the Burrow

_Katy -- as a thank you to you, look for lots of your favorite kind of angst. B&B was even the inspiration for it._

Molly couldn't help but wonder where her youngest children were. She was swarmed by people, and she couldn't get away, but she was very aware that Ron and Hermione and Harry and Ginny were missing. The only consolation was that she was sure they were together. But while she was in the midst of a discussion with one of Arthur's elderly cousins, Ron and Hermione came walking in – alone. Molly excused herself and approached them quickly although she felt as though there were a pit in the bottom of her stomach.

"Where are Harry and Ginny?" she asked. She kept her voice low, but they both heard the panic, and Hermione touched her arm and shook her head with what she hoped was a reassuring look.

"They're – they're all right," she said slowly, and Molly immediately felt the pressure on her chest begin to ease. She turned to Ron, her gaze questioning, and he nodded as well. She wondered why they weren't saying anymore, but she knew asking would be useless. No one protected each other more than these four, and if they said Harry and Ginny were all right, then she would have to trust that they were.

Now, though, she was standing with Ron and Hermione and realizing very quickly that she had no desire to go back to the endless, mournful conversations that she'd been having all morning. Casting a quick glance around, she realized that the Grangers were sitting smushed in the corner of the couch and looking distinctly out of place.

"Come," she told her son and soon-to-be daughter, and she led the way over to Carol and Richard.

They stood as soon as they realized that Molly was heading toward them – or tried to. Neither could seem to get out of the magically comfortable cushions, and they smiled awkwardly as Molly, Ron and Hermione sat down with them.

"Sorry," Carol said, gesturing to the cushions, but Molly waved off her apology.

"It's ok. It was Arthur's idea. He wanted things that looked like muggle furniture, but he couldn't help but enchant the couches so no one would ever want to get up."

Carol and Richard looked like they didn't know whether or not to smile, especially since Ron had looked down when his mother had said his father's name and was gripping their daughter's hand tightly.

Richard broke the silence, "I know we didn't spend much time together, but he was such a nice man. It's a shame we didn't get to know each other better. I always enjoyed telling him about our lifestyle. He seemed so… _curious _about it."

Hermione nodded, even though her head was down, and said, "He was, Dad. He always wanted to know about muggle appliances and anything he could about our world, really. I've never met anyone as accepting of other lifestyles as he was. It really is a shame that you won't get to know him better."

Ron closed his eyes, hoping no one would notice the tears that were dripping onto his lap. He kept his head down and his hand in Hermione's and concentrated on keeping his breathing even. He wasn't surprised, however, when Hermione put her arm around him. Still without looking up, he buried his face in her shoulder and let out a shaky sigh.

"Thanks – thanks for saying all of those things about Dad," he whispered, and as her shoulder grew steadily damper, she swallowed hard and nodded.

Molly was watching them with tears in her own eyes, but she knew better than to say anything to her son right then, so she turned back to the Grangers and cleared her throat.

"It was so nice of you to come," she said, trying mightily not to listen to Ron's now unsteady breathing. She knew they could hear him too, but they had their daughter's tact, and they looked only at Molly as they nodded.

"Of course," Carol said, putting her hand on Molly's. "We can never tell you how much we appreciate how you and your husband welcomed Hermione into your family and made her one of your own."

"We – we love her," Molly said, looking at where Hermione now had both arms around Ron and was watching them over his shoulder. Her eyes were pained, but she looked at Molly then, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I love both of you too," she said hoarsely, and then she had to put her face in Ron's shoulder.

Carol and Richard were looking as if they wanted to apologize, but Molly tried to smile at them.

"You raised a wonderful girl," she said. "I'll – I'll be right back."

She stood up hastily and cut a path through the room and directly into her surprisingly empty kitchen. Putting her hands on the counter, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Raising her face to the ceiling, she started to count backwards from 10. She could do this. She could hold on until everybody left.

She hadn't expected anyone to follow her.

"Are you all right, Mum?"

It was Bill, and she was hardly surprised, but she felt terrible to be doing this to him. Opening her eyes as wide as she possibly could in an effort to dry them, she turned to him.

"I'm fine," she said, but she knew he didn't believe her.

"I saw you run out of there," he said, his voice low and steady. She didn't know how he could possibly be so strong at a time like this, and she looked into his eyes…

And lost her breath. The pain she saw there broke her heart in two. She reached out to touch him, but he shrank away and shook his head.

"Mum… _don't_," he said, and the urgency in his voice surprised her.

"Bill," she tried to say, but he took another step back and put his hands up as if to ward her off.

"I'm fine," he insisted. He turned his head – and his gaze wound up fixing on the one object in the room he'd been trying to avoid for two years now.

It was the clock, and his eyes sought his father's picture – only to notice that it was gone. It was gone…

His eyes stinging, his back still to his mother, he said, "Where – what did you do with Dad's – thing?"

Molly looked where he was looking and realized for the first time that Arthur's hand had dropped off the clock – just as Fred's had not so long ago. She lost her breath then, but before she could say another word, she suddenly realized that Bill had started trembling. He was leaning against the table, and she wasn't even sure if he'd be able to stand without it.

"Bill?" she said again, and this time her voice was infinitely more gentle. His trembling intensified, and she got to him just in time to help him ease into a chair. He looked up at her, and she was forcefully reminded of when he was small and would look at her in just this way when he'd fallen off his toy broom. It was the look that preceded a storm of tears – and she was afraid that this time would be no different.

But Bill merely sat there. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were full, but he stared at her as though daring her to say anything about it.

Molly was taken aback for a moment before she found herself putting her hand on her son's shoulder and saying softly, "It's ok to cry, you know – even for you. You lost Dad too."

It was as blunt as she could be, and it had its desired effect. Molly hardly realized what was happening as Bill turned suddenly and buried his face in the front of her shirt. She held onto him as tightly as she could, and she rubbed his back even as the tears ran down her own cheeks. She stared at the offending clock and knew that the time had finally come to put it away.

* * *

It was a long time before everyone left the Burrow that night. When the last of their guests had either entered their fireplace or walked out of the protective boundaries to a disapparation point, Molly realized somewhat vaguely from her new customary position in her husband's favorite armchair that her children all looked exhausted. She let her eyes travel across the room examining each of them since she was fairly certain not one of them would notice.

Bill and Fleur were together on the couch. His eyes were closed, and his head was leaning against her shoulder, but his mother couldn't miss the lines around his mouth. Fleur was watching him too, purple shadows under her eyes. Molly hoped desperately that they'd go to bed soon.

Charlie, Percy and George were each lying in various places on the floor. Charlie was facedown with his face pillowed on his arms. Molly couldn't see his face, but she could see how still he was, and she knew he couldn't possibly be asleep. Percy and George were lying on their backs. They were both staring at the ceiling, but Molly knew that they were each seeing something else. Percy looked completely numb while George was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. She wondered how much longer he would last before he'd have to leave. She didn't expect it would be very long.

Even as she was thinking that, he got to his feet and made his way to the stairs without a word to anyone. But Molly could hear his uneven breathing as he passed and knew she would be checking in on him later.

Harry and Ginny were sitting together in the far corner of the room. She could hardly even see them from where she sat, but she knew, somehow, that they were much closer now than they'd seemed to be for the past few days. The same went for Ron and Hermione. And even though she didn't know why, she didn't really care. The reason couldn't have mattered less.

She looked back at Bill and Charlie. Those two … they were the ones who worried her most right now. Bill was having such a hard time letting _anyone _help. And Charlie… she looked again at where he lay prone on the floor, not moving or looking at anyone. She sighed. He needed something… and she had no idea what that was.

The silence seemed as though it would drag on forever when Fleur yawned, and that's when Bill sat up. He looked at her in concern and seemed to notice as if for the first time how drawn and worried she looked.

"Are you ready to go to sleep?" he murmured, and she shrugged.

"I am ready whenever you are ready," she said softly, and he nodded.

Molly felt tears spring to her eyes as she watched Bill pull Fleur to her feet, and she almost thought she could feel Arthur's arm around her. She swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe deeply. She couldn't do this now, not now...

It seemed that Bill and Fleur were the trigger for everyone else. In a matter of moments, the living room had emptied … until Charlie was the only one left. He was still lying on the floor, and his mother wondered if he were aware of the mass exodus or if he actually had managed to fall asleep.

It didn't take any time at all for her to know the answer. Because once Ron and Hermione had left the room, Charlie started sniffling. She stared at him for a moment, wondering if he even wanted her now but knowing, of course, that he did. That this privacy was what he'd been waiting for.

Pushing herself out of the only arms that provided any comfort these days, she sat down on the floor beside her son. His head was still in his arms, but she rested her hand lightly on his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades in small circles like she'd done when he was small.

It was a long time before he started breathing easily again. When he finally sat up, he couldn't bring himself to look at his mother, but he muttered, "Sorry, Mum. I don't even know where that came from."

She smiled at him sadly but said nothing, and Charlie shook his head before sighing and getting to his feet. He reached down to give his mother a hand. Once she was standing, though, he let go quickly and before Molly even realized what had happened, he was gone, and she was alone. Entirely alone…

**A/N: Not to worry, those of you who are George and Percy fans. Their time is coming up soon. I know they've been neglected as of late. That will not continue. The grieving period is only just beginning. There's still a long way to go. Please read and REVIEW.**


	47. Firewhiskey makes it all better?

_A/N_: _Katy, I hope this helps your fix. And Lisa… there's still plenty of potential for Percy to wind up with underwear on his head. Thanks for the ideas. I hope you like the way it turned out. _

George was the first to give up. After almost two hours of staring wide eyed at the ceiling, he swung his feet to the floor and made his way downstairs. He stared around the darkened kitchen and living room, realizing almost immediately that he needed to be out of this house. Grabbing a cloak from a hook by the door, he quietly opened it and slipped outside. The garden was still magically warm from the spell Molly had cast over it during the day, and George instinctively summoned one of the folding chairs from the shed.

He'd only been sitting there for a few minutes, staring up at the stars, when the door creaked open behind him. He didn't turn around, and soon he heard Percy's voice muttering, "You couldn't sleep either?"

"Nope," George said evenly, not turning his head to look at his brother as he continued to stare up at the stars.

"Where'd you get the chair?" Percy asked, and George gestured toward the shed. Percy looked at him for a moment and then turned and summoned one for himself.

He sighed as he sank into the chair, and for a long time neither of them spoke. After a few minutes, however, Percy mumbled something under his breath, and a bottle came soaring out the open window just above their heads. Percy caught it neatly, and as he twisted open the cap, George turned to look at him in astonishment.

"Why Percy Weasley," he said, and his voice was filled with genuine wonder. "If you're going to drown your sorrows in a bottle of Dad's good fire whiskey, then you'd damn well better share."

Percy didn't look at him, but he mumbled something else, and two glasses came soaring out next, one of which whacked George on the head. George winced and rubbed at the spot as he grabbed at the glass. He leaned over the chair and Percy silently poured the amber liquid into his cup.

Once they were settled, though, the door creaked again, and they heard the unmistakable rumbling of their older brother.

"Pass that bottle over, Percy," Charlie demanded, but Percy didn't comply, merely muttered under his breath once more. This time the glass almost caught Charlie on the side of his head, but he caught it in time. Within moments, he, too, was settled on yet another folding chair.

And it wasn't long before they were joined by a very sleepy-looking Ginny, who fought ferociously for a glass of her own, Bill, who'd obviously not been sleeping a bit, and Ron, who was rubbing at his rumpled hair and yawning widely.

They'd been drinking for about five minutes when George finally broke the silence.

"Do any of you remember your first time off to Hogwarts? Did Dad give each of you the same speech he gave to me and Fred?"

Almost as one, all of his siblings turned to look at him. He smiled and said, "He told us that when we got sent to Filch's office – _when_, mind you – that we should try to find a way to get inside those drawers because they would draw us on to further glory."

Ron's lips twitched slightly, and he said, "And you did. Isn't that where you got the Marauder's Map?"

George nodded. "We never told Mum, though. She'd have killed Dad if she'd known. Remember her reaction when we rescued Harry from the Dursleys that night?"

Now Ron was smiling for real. "I remember. And all Dad wanted to know at breakfast the next morning was how it the car flown and if it had stayed invisible."

Ginny coughed, and Ron turned to her, his grin widening.

"I remember you that morning too when you came down the stairs and saw Harry. I think you actually squeaked."

Ginny didn't even bother to reply, choosing instead to swat him as hard as she could manage without moving from her chair.

"Did Dad always love Muggle stuff, do you think?" Ginny asked her brothers.

They all seemed to realize at the same time that none of them were sure of the answer, and a silence descended over the group. She was starting to regret having asked the question and was trying to think of something else to say when they heard a decisive "_Accio_!" and the bottle flew from Percy's hand.

He looked up abruptly for the first time, and then he looked back down just as quickly. Molly was approaching her children, the bottle firmly in hand, and they all watched her. She stood before them in silence before Bill summoned a chair, which she sank into, and then she lifted the bottle to her own lips before passing it back to Percy, who took it without a word and began chugging from it once again.

Molly let out a deep breath and seemed to notice for the first time that everyone else had a glass. Summoning one from the house, she held it out to her son, who filled it, and then she looked around at the rest of them.

"So what have you all been talking about?" she asked. It was clear to all of them from her voice that she'd been crying, but none of them mentioned it. And after another long pause, Ginny said, "I was just asking if anyone knew if Dad had always loved Muggle things."

Molly smiled, but the strain was evident in her voice when she said, "Ever since we were at Hogwarts. He'd get in trouble in transfiguration because he always wanted to make things look as muggle-like as possible. I'll never forget when he transformed one of the Gryffindor plush chairs into an arm chair that folded out when you pushed a button. Everyone wanted to sit in that chair."

"Dad got in trouble?" George asked, and now Molly smiled.

"You and Fred didn't get that streak from nowhere, you know," she said gently, and the strain was gone from her voice. She took a drink.

"Your father and I used to love to sit out here and drink fire whiskey when all of you'd gone to bed at night."

"You did?" Ron asked in surprise. "I never knew that."

His brothers and sister shook their heads in agreement, and Molly smiled.

"We cast muffliato charms on all of your windows. Speaking of which…" she glanced around at Ron, Ginny and Bill. "You three had better do that now if you don't want Harry, Hermione or Fleur to wake up."

Once they'd cast the spells, Molly said, "So what else have you been saying?"

"We were talking about the time George, Fred and I took Dad's car to go rescue Harry," Ron said, and Molly shook her head, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"Well, now that it's in the past, I will say – you did make your father very happy to know that one of his inventions had actually worked. That didn't… happen so often," she said.

Ron shook his head ruefully. "Poor Dad," he said, but then he started to laugh. "Do you remember how…"

It continued this way for an hour and a half. And when Molly realized that her kids were all well and drunk, she decided she'd better get to bed. She cast quick glances at a very sullen Charlie, a very subdued Bill, and a very morose Percy as she passed them on her way in. She couldn't help but notice that none of them had said a word in the entire time she'd been there, and she hoped that her absence would help them to talk too. Even if they looked as if they had nothing to say, she couldn't imagine that was true.

Once she was gone, Ginny said, her voice very low, "I think Mum drank more than the rest of us put together."

Ron snorted. "You think? She definitely did. Did you see how many times Percy refilled her glass?"

They both looked at Percy, but he didn't look at either of them , merely took another sip. Ron shrugged, and Ginny mouthed "Maybe not…"

Ron tried not to laugh but couldn't help it. And that was when Charlie snapped.

"What is _wrong _with the two of you? Can you _blame _Mum for trying to get drunk? She just lost Dad. What do you think _we're _all doing?"

George glanced at Charlie out of the corner of his eye and said lightly, "Well, I don't know. I also like the way it tastes… and I'm pretty sure Dad did, too."

"Dad definitely did," Ginny said quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. "Remember how drunk he got at your wedding, Bill? He was even dancing with Auntie Muriel."

Bill looked at her. It was the first time anyone had addressed him directly, and he forced a laugh, but the effort was clear, and then, before he even realized what was happening, he started to sob. He wanted to run, but he didn't trust his legs to work, so he buried his face in his hands and tried to stifle the noise. It didn't work. His siblings were all frozen – well, all except for Charlie. Glaring at the rest of them, he got out of his chair and moved to sit beside Bill, putting his arms around him.

"It's ok, mate." He tried to soothe him, but his own voice was tight. He lapsed into silence and rubbed Bill's back, but Bill's sobs showed no signs of slowing. Ginny got out of her own chair then and sat on Bill's other side.

"I'm sorry I mentioned that," she said softly, and her voice wavered. She bit her lip and rubbed Bill's back. She shook her head. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Charlie looked at her then over their brother's shaking shoulders, and his own voice shook as he said, "Well, how is he supposed to feel when you mention his wedding? Dad's not even going to be here when Fleur has the baby."

Ginny glared at him, and her eyes welled up as she said, "You think _I_ don't know how that feels? Dad's not even going to _be _at _my _wedding."

Charlie jerked back then, and Ginny realized immediately just what he was trying _not_ to do. She motioned for George to take her place with Bill, which he did immediately, and then she moved to stand before Charlie.

"Get up," she said, ignoring the tears that were now rolling down her face.

He looked up at her for a moment, anger and pain warring in his eyes, and then he got to his feet.

"_What_?" he asked, but Ginny didn't say a word. She stepped forward and hugged him. He stiffened in shock, and then his arms went around her tightly as he found himself choking on the warm night air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but Ginny merely tightened her grip, and he put his face into her long red hair and reluctantly gave into the gasping sobs that he could no longer control.

If Molly had chosen that moment to look out her window, she'd have seen George comforting Bill and Ginny comforting Charlie. She'd have seen Ron sitting miserably with his head in his hands. None of this would have surprised her. What would have made her worry would have been Percy, who continued to drink and wasn't sparing a moment's notice for any of his siblings.

**A/N: Gosh, I'm sorry this took so long. This was the worst case of writer's block yet. Please read and REVIEW! There's a lot more to come. **


	48. George and Percy

A week passed. Bill and Fleur went back to Shell Cottage two days after the funeral although Bill clearly didn't want to leave. Molly could see the bags under her daughter-in-law's eyes, however, and knew that she needed her own home again for the sake of her unborn child. But it hadn't been an easy goodbye. Fleur had broken down, and when Bill had gone to hug her, he'd started crying as well. Molly was relieved that no one else had been around to witness this scene as it had taken her a very long time – and some tears of her own – before she could get them to calm down and finally go.

Three days after Bill and Fleur had gone, it took Molly even more persuading to get Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny back to Grimmauld Place. None of those departures had been particularly easy either, though when Molly remembered how Ron clung to her before they left, her heart ached. She wasn't worried about him, though. Because when he finally _had_ let go, Hermione had been there, and Ron had gripped her hand tightly. And Molly knew from one look at Hermione's face that she would never let go.

Charlie, Percy and George were still at the Burrow. Charlie wasn't really speaking to anyone, so Molly wasn't ready to push him to move back to Hogwarts. He still went everyday to work with Hagrid, but he showed no indication of wanting to actually live there again. George, on the other hand, seemed ready to move back into his flat above the shop, but he hadn't made any move to do so, and Molly didn't push him either. He seemed to need to stay, and she knew _she_ needed him to stay – for Percy.

Percy… before she could follow this train of thought to its usual worrisome station, the object of her concern came stumbling down the stairs. His unfocused eyes caused her stomach to clench, but George followed closely behind him, and she knew things could be worse. He glanced at his mother and smiled wearily, and she wondered how much sleep _he _was getting these days. She didn't imagine it was very much.

She watched her sons as they walked into the kitchen, and she heard a mumbled conversation although she could hardly decipher a word of it. What she did realize fairly quickly, though, was that Percy wanted to go somewhere, and George wanted him to stay.

Percy won. The door slammed, and she could hear George breathing heavily by himself in the other room. But before she could call to him, he walked into the living room and just stood there, looking at her. Molly realized that she didn't know what to say.

He stood there, and he was still breathing heavily, but after a moment, she realized that his breathing had changed – and that he was no longer looking at her.

"George?" she asked hesitantly. He didn't respond, and she repeated his name. When he still insisted on staring at the floor, she got out of her chair.

"Honey, come sit down," she said softly. She put her hand on his arm and tried to pull him toward the couch, but he shook his head.

"I _can't_," he said as he continued to avoid her eyes. "I have to go after him, right?"

Molly heard the accusation in his voice, and she took a step back, her eyes wide. When George realized that she wasn't answering, he looked up and immediately felt guilty.

"I'm sorry, Mum," he tried to say, but she shook her head.

"Don't apologize, George," she said quietly. "Come sit with me. I think we need to talk."

This time, he did. And once he was beside her, she took the opportunity afforded by her son's sudden and unnatural silence to make her own apology.

"I don't think I've been very fair to you lately," she began, and George looked at her quizzically. She took a deep breath before she continued. "I've known that you've been ready to go back to your flat and back to your life. And I know I should have encouraged you to do that just like I encouraged the others. But I haven't been fair to you. You're the only person Percy's even given the time of day to, George, and I haven't wanted to jeopardize the chance of _someone _possibly being able to get through to him. I know I've been putting him first, but that's only because he's having such a hard time. You know I never meant to make you feel any less important, right?"

George wasn't looking at her anymore, but she looked at him and knew he'd heard every word she said. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she could feel his slight trembling, and she inched closer to him.

"Honey?" she whispered. Before she could say another word, though, he turned silently and allowed her to wrap her arms around him. She held onto him as she had when he was very small, and she rubbed his back as his shaky breathing and occasional sniffles filled the silence of the room.

After a few minutes, he drew back, wiping his eyes hurriedly as he looked away.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and she sighed.

"It's time to stop apologizing for things like this," she said, and she stared at him so intently that he nodded even as his neck flushed.

"Ok," he said softly. Then he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I think – I _should _go after Percy, shouldn't I? He said he was going to Diagon Alley."

Molly winced. "Why don't you bring Charlie with you? It might make it a little easier if there are two of you."

George nodded as he got to his feet. "Good idea. And don't worry, Mum. We'll bring him back in one piece."

Molly reached out and grabbed his hand before he could leave the room, and he looked down at her in surprise.

"I'm proud of you for being such a good brother," she said seriously, and her grip on his hand tightened as she added, "and Dad would be too."

Now George's eyes filled again, but he looked at her and tried to smile before he leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Thanks," he managed to choke, and then he hurried from the room. Molly watched him go even as her own eyes blurred. She'd meant it, of course. Arthur _would _be proud. She just … wanted him there to say it.

* * *

Charlie and George apparated into Diagon Alley and found themselves facing the door of the Leaky Cauldron. They glanced in the windows and then at one another, and George sighed.

"Well, let's go in here first and check. He's probably sitting at his table, and then we won't have to look any further."

But when the two Weasleys walked inside, they found no trace of Percy. They were, however, spotted by Lee Jordan, who was sitting with some people George didn't recognize. Lee didn't seem to care much about them either as he leapt to his feet and left them behind, hurrying over to George and Charlie.

"Hey, you two," he said gleefully. But then he looked at their faces and seemed to realize instantly that they weren't here to socialize.

George tried to smile at him but failed miserably. "We're looking for Percy," he muttered, and Lee's face adjusted into instant sobriety.

"I'll help," he said quickly, and Charlie and George glanced at each other before each of them nodded slightly.

"Let's go," Charlie said gruffly, and he turned and led the way out of the pub.

Once they were outside, he established the plan. Charlie would go to all of Percy's usual favorite places in Diagon Alley, and George and Lee, since they would be together, would venture into Knockturn Alley. They would meet back at the joke shop, with or without Percy, in a half hour.

* * *

Thirty minutes had passed, and Charlie was sitting on the curb in front of the joke shop, frustrated and tired. He hadn't found Percy anywhere, and he was getting annoyed _and _worried as he realized that this might mean Percy had _actually _gone into Knockturn Alley. His brother wasn't _that_ far gone, was he? And if he were … how had Charlie not noticed?

It only took a few more minutes before Lee popped into existence in front of him, and he was paler than Charlie had ever seen anyone. His heart dropped as Lee stuttered, "G-George told me t – to come get you. He's with P-Percy, and they're in a pub in Knockturn Alley. I'll take you there."

Charlie was on his feet and grasping Lee's arm before he even finished speaking, and without another word, Lee turned, and then they were standing before a small building with shuttered windows and a heavy wooden door. Passing through the doorway, Charlie felt a chill, and he realized immediately that the enchantments on the place were in the form of very surly-looking ghosts. He glanced at them and felt a chill course through him. Even Nearly Headless Nick hadn't looked this gloomy when he'd been rejected by the Headless Hunt.

Charlie's eyes hadn't even begun to adjust to the darkness in the room when Lee was suddenly pulling him to the table in the corner. The first thing he was aware of was Percy drinking steadily and George watching with a look on his face that Charlie hadn't seen from him in two years.

Instinctively, Charlie reached out and put a hand on George's shoulder, but George shook his head and shrugged him off. Charlie stared at him for a moment and then realized that George was blinking too quickly and swallowing too hard, and he knew just how close to the edge his little brother actually was. He turned to Lee and muttered, "Take him back to his flat and get word to Bill." He gestured towards George with his chin, and Lee took one look at his best friend before turning back to Charlie and nodding almost imperceptibly.

"Come on, George," he almost whispered, and he tried to pull him to his feet, but George shook his head stubbornly.

"I can't leave him," he ground out, but Lee tugged harder and mumbled, "We need to get Bill. He'll help Charlie get Percy out of here."

Understanding dawned in George's eyes, and he allowed Lee to toss some coins on the table and lead him out into the dank air of Knockturn Alley. He hardly realized what was happening as Lee apparated the two of them back to his own flat, and he looked around for a few seconds, blinking in confusion before realizing where they were.

Then, without a word to Lee, he went to his fireplace and flooed Bill. Lee sat on the couch and waited until George was finished, but even when he stopped talking, George didn't move. He merely folded his arms and rested his head on them. Lee sighed and joined him on the floor.

For a moment, he said nothing, but when George continued to remain completely still, he swallowed hard and said, "George?"

George didn't answer, but Lee hadn't really expected him to. He decided to continue talking.

"Is Bill going to meet Charlie and Percy there?"

A quick nod, but George remained silent. Lee said, "Well, you know the two of them will be able to get him out of there, at least by force if nothing else."

Now George made some sort of noise, and Lee leaned closer to him.

"What'd you say, mate?"

George rolled over then and stared straight up at the ceiling. His eyes were glassy, but he mumbled, "Great help I was. Mum trusted me to look after him, and all I could do was sit there. He wouldn't listen to a word I said."

Lee heard the slight tremor in his friend's voice, and he cleared his throat before saying, "He needed you there, George, even if he didn't show it. He didn't tell you to leave, did he?"

George let out a mirthless chuckle. "He couldn't say anything, Lee. Not telling me to leave doesn't mean much in that case."

Lee shook his head. "That isn't true. I'm sure he'd have found a way to tell you if he hadn't wanted you there."

George rolled his eyes, but he stopped arguing. He hoped Lee was right; he _wanted _Lee to be right. But he couldn't help but feel like he was wrong. And the thought that had been lurking in the back of his mind finally came spilling out of his mouth before he even realized he was actually saying it.

"I can't lose somebody else right now."

Lee stared at him. George was still looking up at the ceiling, but he was blinking fast and biting down so hard on his lip that Lee wouldn't have been surprised if he drew blood.

"You're not going to," Lee said softly. George wouldn't look at him, but Lee could sense his disbelief, so he repeated, "You _won't_."

But George shook his head. "How do you know?" he asked. He finally turned his head to look at Lee, and his chin trembled as he said, "We weren't supposed to lose Fred. We weren't supposed to lose _Dad_. If Percy keeps going this way…"

He couldn't continue – either the thought or the sentence. The lump in his throat was starting to dissolve, and tears were burning in his eyes. He knew that Lee could see, so he stumbled to his feet and tried to get out of the room before it was too late.

He was too late. He only made it to the couch before the first sob escaped, and then Lee's arm was around him, and he was sitting on the couch, shaking with sobs and hiding his face in his best friend's shoulder.

"Percy's going to be all right," Lee whispered, hoping he was telling the truth.

It was at that moment that they heard three distinct cracks, and they both looked up with a start to see Bill and Charlie standing before them, an unconscious Percy supported between them.

_**A/N: I think writer's block is officially over. Woohoo! I hope you all like it. Please read and REVIEW!**_


	49. Breakthroughs mostly

_**A/N: So instead of doing some necessary work, I couldn't leave Percy unconscious for a moment longer. Please read and REVIEW! Let me know what you think. **_

George and Lee leapt off the couch and helped Bill and Charlie lay Percy across the cushions. For a moment, the four of them stood there, looking down at him, and then George mumbled, "What – what happened?"

Bill sighed explosively and, shoving Percy's feet aside more roughly than any of them would have expected, he sat down on the end of the couch. The others followed his lead and found seats as well, and then he said, "He wouldn't listen to us, and he wouldn't stop drinking, so I stunned him. We are _not_ telling Mum about this, in case you were wondering."

George stared at him, his mouth open slightly, before he realized that Bill was staring at him pointedly, and he nodded his agreement quickly. Then his gaze drifted back to Percy, and he felt his stomach clench in fear.

"What are we supposed to say to him?" he asked, his voice low. "None of us can make this better. I don't – I don't know what to tell him."

Bill's eyes softened as he looked at his younger brother, and he shook his head. "Making Percy better isn't your responsibility, George. Try not to worry so much."

It was the wrong thing to say, and Bill knew it as soon as George glared at him. "We're all each _other's _responsibility," George snapped back. "And Mum told me to look out for him, so I _have _to worry, Bill. And it's rich, by the way, hearing _you _say that it isn't my responsibility. Why? Because it's _yours_ like it _always _is?"

Bill stared at him, and he felt the color rising to his cheeks as he said, "You're all always my responsibility. I didn't ask to be the oldest, but I _am,_ and that's just the way things are."

His voice had risen, but George's matched his decibel for decibel as he said, "That doesn't make you our _father_. We already have one!"

They stared at each other as his words hit both of them at the same time, and then George felt his eyes welling up as much as he tried to stop them.

"_Damn_ it," he muttered, and he turned to look at the wall. He felt Bill's hand on his arm, but he shrugged him off and kept his face turned away.

"George?" Bill asked, and George knew then that he wasn't mad, but he still didn't turn back. He simply stared at the wall, blinking fast and breathing heavily. He was _not _going to do this now.

For a long time, none of them spoke, and then they heard a groggy muttering as Percy shifted on the couch and then mumbled, "Where – where am I?"

"At George's flat." It was Charlie's voice, and it was flat and emotionless. They all turned to look at him then, even George, but Charlie was looking at Percy only.

Percy stared back at him, confused, and then he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as he moved too quickly.

"What happened to me?"

He looked around at Lee and his brothers, but only Charlie answered him again.

"George found you in a pub in Knockturn Alley. We brought you here when you – when you passed out."

Percy stared at Charlie for a moment, and then he set his lips in a thin line.

"You mean when Bill stunned me."

It wasn't a question, and from the look on his face, there wasn't a question that he was kidding either. Somehow, he remembered.

Before he could disapparate, Bill aimed his wand at him and murmured a disapparation jinx. Percy glared at him.

"You have no problems using spells on me now? I thought you were against using magic against family."

"I'm not using it _against _you," Bill said, and George could tell he was struggling to stay patient. "I'm using it _for _you. We want to help you, Perce, but we can't if you won't let us."

Percy turned away even though he knew he couldn't disapparate. "I don't need your help," he said stiffly. "I'm fine."

"You're FINE?"

It was George, and even though Percy didn't look at him, he stiffened, and they all saw it.

"You are NOT FINE, PERCY," George shouted. His face had turned red, and he stared at the back of Percy's head as he continued. "I've been watching you for days now, and you've hardly spoken to anyone. That's NOT _fine. _I get it if you want to forget everything that's happened. I don't think anyone understands that more than I do. But you CAN'T. And the longer you try to do it, the worse it'll be when you can't anymore."

He was breathing heavily, and when Percy still didn't turn around, George stood up and stumbled from the room. He was finished. He didn't want to be, but he just couldn't do this anymore. He didn't get very far, though. He'd only just walked out of the shop when he ran headlong into Katie. And it took her only one look at his face to know what had happened and just why she hadn't heard from him in so long.

He stared at her, and his mouth worked but no words came out.

Katie reached out and took his hand. "George?" she said gently. He just looked at her, and she sighed. "I'll side along you. Come with me to my flat."

He couldn't answer, and she took his silence as confirmation. Within moments, they were in her living room, and the familiarity made his throat ache. He looked around for a moment before he found himself collapsing onto the couch. He hunched over in the quiet of her apartment and put his face in his hands.

For a long time, Katie watched him, and then she said, "Why didn't you tell me? About your dad?"

Slowly, he moved his hands away and looked at her. She was studying him, but the hurt in her eyes was clear, and he whispered, "Because I couldn't… because if I had to say it to you, it would be real. I don't want it to be…" He trailed off as his voice choked up, and Katie bit her lip even as she inched closer to him on the couch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "If I'd known, I'd have come. I'd have come to everything."

He looked at her then and swallowed hard. "I could have used you there," he managed to say. He coughed then, trying to dissolve the solid lump in his throat, but it sounded more like a sob, and then he was crying, and Katie's arms were around him.

She was crying too, he realized, and this only made him cry harder as he wrapped his arms around her and soaked the shoulder of her Cannons' t-shirt.

When they finally let go of one another, Katie took a few deep breaths before she managed to ask, "How's the rest of your family doing? How're your Mum and your brothers?"

His brothers… George suddenly realized what he'd done, and he flushed scarlet.

"I have to get back to my flat," he said, leaping to his feet, and Katie looked startled at the urgency in his voice.

"What happened?" she asked even as she stood up with him.

"It's – it's Percy," he said. "He – he's been drinking a lot lately. It seems like he doesn't care what happens to himself, Katie, but I do. I can't – I can't let anything happen to him."

Katie stared at him for a moment, and then she asked, "He's in your flat now?" When George nodded, she continued. "Do you want me to come back there with you?"

He hesitated briefly, but then he shook his head. "I do – but I think he'd probably be too embarrassed. Can I – can I owl you tomorrow, though?"

She nodded and then stepped forward and kissed him quickly.

"I hope you do," she whispered, and George found a slight smile on his lips even as he turned to disapparate back to his own flat.

* * *

There was little to smile about when he got back. Percy was white and shaking, and he was sitting on the couch with his head between his knees. Bill and Charlie were on either side of him, and they each had a hand on his back. Lee was sitting in the corner watching them, his eyes full of fear.

George paused in the doorway and then he said quietly, "I'm back."

They all looked up with a start, including Percy, and before Bill or Charlie could react, he hurled himself at George, flinging his arms around him.

"Don't – don't _ever _do that again," he gasped, and George was rocked back on his heels. He stood there for a moment with his arms at his sides before he realized that Percy had started to shake with sobs, and he brought his arms up then, holding his brother as tightly as he could.

When Percy was calm enough to let go, George took a step back and watched him. Percy's face was white, and his eyes were red and swollen as he whispered, "I thought – I thought I could lose you too. I don't – I don't want to lose anyone else."

George stared at him, and then he said, "Neither do _I_, Perce. But with the way you're going, I'm scared. You – you can't keep _doing _this."

Percy nodded, and he reached up to swipe at the tears that were now rolling steadily down his cheeks. "You're right," he said, his voice shaking. "But – it just hurts so much. I – I miss Dad. I gave up _years _I could have had with him."

George stared at him, speechless, so Bill stood up and walked over to his younger brothers, saying quickly, "Percy, you moved back in. You were there to help them with everything they needed. You got that time that none of the rest of us have had in years." He put a hand on each of their shoulders and looked straight at Percy. "You did more than I could have done, Perce, and I know Mum and Dad appreciated it."

Percy stared at him, his lip trembling, and he said, "But I've made things so much harder for Mum lately."

"She understands," Bill said immediately. "She knows how hard this is for all – for all of us. Just – you have to shape up, like George said. She'll be a lot more understanding if all of _this_ is in the past."

Percy nodded, and he wiped his eyes again. He glanced over at Charlie and then looked back at Bill and George, and he whispered, "I am sorry."

Bill cleared his throat. "We know you are. It's all right."

George nodded, and Percy seemed to visibly relax. He allowed Bill to lead him over to the couch, and George went to sit by Lee. Percy glanced over at them and mumbled, "Lee, I'm – I'm sorry you had to see all of this…"

Lee tried to smile. "It's all right, Perce. It's nice to see that the Prefects aren't so perfect sometimes."

Percy managed a small smile. "Far from," he said wryly, and Bill pushed him gently.

"Speak for yourself," he chided, and now George smiled too. But Charlie didn't. He continued to sit and stare at the floor.

Percy had turned a corner. He was glad, obviously. But they were all smiling now, and he just couldn't. Why – why did everything still hurt so _much_? And why did it seem like he was the only one who just couldn't get past it at all?

_**A/N 2: If you like Charlie, follow my profile to my other ongoing story, Charlie's Return. It focuses solely on his story following the Battle of Hogwarts. I mention it only because there's a character in there that I'm going to bring in here soon, and it'll make more sense if you know the back story.**_


	50. Stirrings of panic

_**A/N: Katy, what would I do without you? This one's for you. **_

True to their word, none of Percy's brothers told Molly where they'd found him or just what happened on the night in question. She shot Percy, George and Charlie some questioning looks when they appeared for breakfast the following morning, but they either looked back at her blankly or studied their cereal, and she dropped the subject. She knew all she needed to. Percy was home, and he seemed calmer than he had in days.

But now … for some reason, her eyes kept going back to Charlie. He was one of the two staring into his cereal, and she wondered why. He seemed even more withdrawn than usual this morning, but if Percy were doing better, then why…? She sighed. One went up; another went down. It was the nature of life at the Burrow now. She wondered if it would ever be any different.

Before she had too much more time to think about this, George pushed his chair back from the table. She looked up with a start, and he forced a smile.

"I'm going to go in to the shop for a bit," he explained. For some reason, Molly wondered if there were more he wasn't saying. But she merely smiled with what she hoped was encouragement and nodded for him to go. He left with alacrity.

This left her alone with Percy and Charlie, and she was stunned when Percy cleared his throat and said, "I think I might floo over to the Ministry. I – I think it might be time for me to be getting back to work."

Molly's mouth fell open slightly, and she made a deliberate effort to close it.

"That's a great idea, dear," she said honestly, and he looked relieved.

"I won't be back late," he hastened to add, but Molly merely smiled.

"I'll be here," she said. "You go and do what you have to."

Percy hesitated for a moment before pushing back his own chair, but when he got up, he walked over to his mother and leaned over, putting his arms around her. He held her tightly for a moment before letting go and turning away quickly.

"I'm off then," he said, and Molly could hear how tight his voice had gotten, but she didn't say a word, simply watched as he flooed over to his office for the first time in ages.

She was still staring at the fireplace when Charlie said, "He's better now."

She turned to look at him then, but he was still looking into his cereal. After a long moment, he looked up, and his eyes were curiously blank as he said, "I think he's going to be ok."

Molly nodded slowly. "I'm glad to hear that," she said carefully. She studied Charlie and felt a chill when she realized that while he was supposedly looking at her, he really wasn't seeing her at all.

"I need to run some errands," she said at last. "What are you going to do today?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'll probably head over to Hogwarts in a bit. Hagrid keeps owling that he's getting new shipments of all of these creatures, and he could use a hand."

"Well, that sounds like a good idea," Molly said with something that sounded suspiciously like relief. Charlie raised an eyebrow, but neither of them said another word about it. He left the table, and she cleaned up quickly, sending the dishes flying through the air at record speed. For some reason, she _had_ to get out of the house. It was the first time she'd had any desire to do anything, and now the urge was overpowering.

After a quick shower, she was ready to go. Before she could allow herself to think of 100 reasons not to, she apparated into the heart of Diagon Alley. The man walking by blinked when she cracked into existence, but he continued to move quickly, and Molly realized that it was colder than she'd expected. But that made sense. She'd hardly been out of the Burrow in a week, and she'd paid little to no attention to the weather.

Now, she shivered and drew her cloak more tightly around her. She glanced around before setting off at a brisk pace of her own. She didn't know where she was going, but it hardly mattered right now. All she knew was that she had to keep moving. It wasn't until she entered Flourish and Blotts that she even became aware of her surroundings, and then, suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. In her mind's eye, she could see herself trying to restrain Arthur from fighting with Lucius Malfoy, their children all around them, and she might have collapsed right where she stood if Andromeda Tonks hadn't spotted her right at that moment.

"Molly!" she called, unaware of the other woman's pain, and she made her over to her in time to notice that the red haired woman was swaying dangerously on her feet.

"Oh!" Andromeda exclaimed, and she put an arm around Molly before she could hit the floor. She looked at her in concern and asked, "Do you need to leave?"

Molly could only manage a small nod, but that was all Andromeda needed. She helped her from the shop, and once they were outside, she seemed to have come to a decision.

"Come back to my house with me," she said firmly, in a tone that indicated that she would only accept one answer. "I'll make us some tea. I think – I think it's time for the two of us to talk."

Molly was too numb to argue. Before she quite realized what was happening, Andromeda had taken hold of her arm, and then they were in a small living room. Molly had been there before, of course, but she hardly noticed the vaguely familiar surroundings now. Her eyes were still blurry with the tears that she refused to shed, and Andromeda took one look at her before saying quietly, "I am going into the other room to make tea. Teddy is with Harry for the afternoon. I am going to place a silencing charm on the room, and then I will be back in a little while. I expect you to feel somewhat better when I return."

And without another word, she was gone. Once the door clicked shut, Molly heard her murmuring and then… nothing. The silence was complete.

For a moment, Molly simply sat there. Her eyesight was still blurry, and her hands were balled in fists. She tried to take a deep breath, but she found it hitching in her throat, and then a sob escaped. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she slumped back on the couch, her head back as the tears streamed down her face.

"How could you do this to me?" she asked. Her words were garbled, but it hardly mattered. No one was there to hear or answer. No one was there at all.

"I can't do this without you," she continued, as the tears continued to flow unchecked. "And we agreed that we would do this together. You were _never _supposed to leave me alone like this. You always promised me you _wouldn't_. You broke your promise, Arthur. You _never_ broke your promises, so why this one? Why now?"

It was the first time she could remember when she couldn't get answers. She let herself curl into a fetal position as she cried harder than she could remember doing in years.

"I need you," she kept choking. "I _need _you."

Finally, her tears spent themselves, and she was sitting with her eyes closed, taking deep breaths, when Andromeda walked back in, this time levitating tea and pastries.

Without a word to Molly, she sat beside her and settled the food before them. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and then Andromeda said, "You might find this hard to believe, but after Ted died, Dora did that for me. She saw how much I was trying to take care of everyone else, and she knew that I wasn't taking care of myself, so she sent me to my room and put silencing spells on the door and walls. It was the best thing anyone could have done. I didn't know how much I'd kept inside until I let it out."

Molly sipped her tea and nodded. "It's true," she said. Her voice was more subdued than Andromeda ever remembered hearing it, but it also didn't hold the same kind of sharp anguish it had in Diagon Alley. Molly shook her head as her eyes filled again, but her voice was somewhat steady when she said, "I don't know how I'm supposed to take care of myself. The kids – they just need me so much."

Andromeda's eyes were sad now too. "I felt that way too, but then Dora told me –sometimes we forget, Molly, that they're not really children anymore. They'll always be your kids, but you've raised a group that also takes care of each other. Let them. If you don't help yourself, soon, you won't be yourself anymore, and then you won't be able to help them either. And they need the Molly Weasley they've always relied on. She's the only person who could possibly get them through this."

Molly tried to smile, but her lips quivered again, and she said, "But that Molly Weasley had Arthur Weasley by her side. How – how am I supposed to…"

She couldn't go on. The lump in her throat was choking her, and before she was even aware of what was happening, Andromeda's arms were around her, and she gave up.

Andromeda had to close her eyes against the sounds of Molly's grief. She rocked back and forth slowly until she calmed down, and then, when Molly had pulled back wiping her eyes with corner of her cloak, she said spontaneously, "You need some time to yourself. You'll stay here tonight."

Molly just looked at her, and then she nodded. "I should tell the kids where…" she began, but Andromeda shook her head.

"They'll be fine. They're adults, remember. You'll see them tomorrow. I'll owl Harry and let him know he'll need to keep Teddy for the night. Tonight, I'll make dinner for us, and then you can go to bed and get a good night's sleep. Some rest will do wonders for you. You'll see."

Molly sighed. "You're a life saver," she said to Andromeda, but she brushed off her words.

"No," she said, looking into Molly's eyes. "I'm just someone who's been where you are, and I'll tell you – you can make it through this. You just need to accept the help."

Molly swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. It was hardly enough, but it was all she could manage at the moment.

* * *

The hearth was cold, and the stove wasn't lit. It didn't take very long for Percy to start worrying, and he was in full-fledged panic mode when Charlie returned to the Burrow an hour later.

"Mum's gone," Percy said, his words running together. "I don't know where she is."

Charlie looked at him for a moment and then asked, "What – what should we do?"

Percy stared at his older brother in shock. This wasn't the way things worked. The older siblings took the responsibility. They never passed it off. But here was Charlie asking him what to do, and Percy knew that he was reading one thing very clearly in the dragon tamer's eyes. Charlie was terrified, and he was trying desperately not to show it.

Without another word, Percy turned to the fireplace. Moments later, the green flames flared, and Bill stumbled into the living room. He said nothing at first, merely glanced around, and then he turned to Charlie, his voice very low, and he said, "I have no idea what to do."

It was the wrong thing to say and the wrong person to say it to, but there was no way Bill could have known that. And as George, Katie, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny apparated into the garden, Charlie shouted, "Dad's dead; Mum's gone, and _you_ have no idea how to find her? Well, we might as well give up right now."

There was a horrible silence, and then Charlie's face turned completely white as he realized what he'd said. Without a moment's hesitation, he thundered up the stairs to his room, and Bill turned to look at his other siblings.

Everyone looked terrified. No one seemed to have any idea what to say.

_**A/N2: Please read and REVIEW! There's so much more to come.**_


	51. The Next Step

Bill sank onto the couch and mumbled, "I'm – I'm sorry. That was my fault."

For a moment, his siblings just stared at him. The defeat in his voice was so out of character that it left all of them speechless. None of them moved until Ginny took a deep breath and moved to sit beside him. Bill looked at her, and then he looked at Harry, noticing for the first time that Harry held Teddy in his arms. Bill tried to smile at the little boy, but it didn't work. Teddy hid his face in Harry's shoulder, and Bill suddenly felt ten million times worse as he looked at his little sister helplessly.

"I'm screwing everything up right now, aren't I?" he asked hoarsely, but Ginny shook her head.

"No," she said softly, and she put her hand tentatively on his shoulder. "You're not. Charlie—well, he's having a rough time of it right now. You know that. You know what he's like. I think – I think he just needs some space."

Bill stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly.

"You're right," he managed. He shook his head and let out a deep breath. A thick silence descended on the room, broken moments later by Teddy's demand to be put down, and as Harry lowered him to the floor, something struck Ron.

"Harry, why do you still have Teddy?" he asked. "Shouldn't you have dropped him back off at Andromeda's by now?"

Harry shook his head. "Not today. She asked if I'd mind keeping him over night. I'm not sure why, but…"

He trailed off as all of the Weasleys looked at one another.

"Mum…" Percy breathed, but George shook his head.

"Why would she be there?" he asked skeptically. "They're not exactly friends."

But Ginny shot him a look. "Think about it, George," she said. "Andromeda… well, she kind of knows what Mum's going through right now… more than we do at any rate. It makes sense."

George still looked disbelieving, but he said nothing. Ginny turned to Harry.

"Will you floo her to find out why she wanted you to keep Teddy tonight?"

Eager to do anything to help, Harry immediately knelt before the fireplace. The moment his back was to them, Bill looked at Ginny and nearly whispered, "D'you – d'you really think Mum's there?"

Ginny swallowed hard, but she managed a small smile. "I'd bet you some puking pastilles that she is."

Bill nodded, but no one said anything until Harry stood up moments later with an odd expression on his face. At the questioning glances, however, he gave a small nod of confirmation. Bill collapsed against the back of the couch, and George buried his face in his hands. Percy sat down hard on the edge of the fireplace, and Ron grabbed Hermione into a crushing hug, hiding his face in her hair.

Ginny looked around at her brothers and then she kissed Harry, hugging him fiercely before whispering, "Thanks. I'm going to tell Charlie. He should know she's all right."

Harry looked at her questioningly and gestured toward the stairs, but she shook her head slightly. "I – I don't think he wants to even see me now. I should do it alone. You need to keep an eye on Teddy anyhow, and this won't take me long."

Before he could say another word, Ginny disappeared up the stairs, and Harry turned with a sigh to look for Teddy. His eyes widened when he did. Teddy had apparently found Ron and Hermione, and as Harry watched, Teddy tugged on Hermione's jeans. She managed to disentangle herself enough to realize that they were being watched.

"Hi, Teddy," she said, trying to smile, but it was clear to Harry that her heart wasn't in it. Ron rubbed his hands briskly over his face before attempting his own smile at the little boy, but it was the pain in his eyes that prompted Harry to finally step forward.

"C'mon, Teddy," he said, and his godson turned at the sound of his voice, a smile on his face. He held out his arms for Harry to lift him again, and as Harry took the child in his arms, he smiled apologetically at Hermione (Ron had already resumed his studious examination of his mother's latest knitting project).

"I'm going to take him outside," he whispered, and she nodded even as she turned back to Ron, who was now seemingly mesmerized by an unfinished scarf. But the moment he seemed to feel her eyes on him, he turned his head to look at her, and Hermione felt her heart constrict. He was blinking too quickly.

"She's ok," Hermione whispered, and he nodded.

"I know," he muttered. He grabbed her hand and held it tightly even as he stared down at the floor.

She sighed. She hoped Ginny were having better luck upstairs with Charlie…

* * *

She wasn't. Charlie had opened the door, but he'd turned his back on her immediately and gone back to his bed. She stood in the doorway watching him, but he refused to look at her, staring instead outside the window at the garden below.

"Mum's all right," she said, and the tone of her voice was so casual that he looked up. But the moment Ginny's eyes widened, he looked back down. She didn't need to see him looking like this.

It was too late, though. She stepped into the room then, closing the door behind her.

"Charlie," she whispered. He continued staring at the bed, and she sat down on the far end, careful not to touch him. He still didn't look up, but he rasped, "She's all right?"

Ginny nodded before she remembered that he wasn't looking at her. She cleared her throat.

"Yes, she's fine. Andromeda asked Harry to keep Teddy because she's got Mum there. I guess… I guess the two of them needed to talk or something."

"Mmm," Charlie said, staring down at the bedspread. Ginny sighed.

"Why don't you come back downstairs now? Maybe this would be a good time for all of us to be together?"

But he shook his head. When he still didn't say anything, Ginny asked, "Why _not?"_, and it was the frustration in her voice that forced Charlie to finally look at his sister, and she almost wished he hadn't.

His face was twisted as he fought to maintain control, and his voice shook when he said, "No one wants to see me now, Gin. You heard what I said to Bill."

She shifted closer to him on the bed. "I did," she said, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. "And Bill's not mad. None of us are. We're just… worried."

Charlie stared at her, and then he choked, "So am I. I don't know how to do this."

He hunched over, putting his face in his hands, and Ginny stared at him for a moment before throwing caution to the winds and moving close enough to put her arm around his shoulders.

Her touch was like their mother's, and a shudder ran through him. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. He wanted to thank her, but he didn't trust himself to speak. If he spoke, he would start crying, and he was finished crying. He didn't want to cry anymore.

But Ginny didn't give up. He knew she wouldn't.

"Charlie?" she asked, and he simply shook his head. No. There was no way she was going to get him to say _anything_. But he didn't count on the second voice.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know." It was Bill. His voice was steady but just barely, and both his brother and sister looked up. They all stared at each other, and then Bill moved to sit on Charlie's other side. He didn't touch Charlie, but he looked right at him as he said, "I think – I think there might be someone who doesn't know about Dad…?"

Charlie's mouth fell open slightly, and then he nodded almost imperceptibly. Ginny and Bill looked at one another, and then Bill took a deep breath and put his hand lightly on Charlie's shoulder.

"Maybe you should owl her?" he whispered. Charlie nodded slowly, and Bill let out a small sigh of relief.

After a few minutes of silence, Bill cleared his throat.

"Gin, let's go back downstairs. Charlie… you know where to find us if you need anything?"

Charlie still wouldn't speak. Of course he knew. He just wished they would leave.

They didn't wait much longer. It only took Ginny one quick glance at Charlie's face to know that he wanted desperately to be alone, and she and Bill left the room without another word. Once they'd closed the door behind them, she threw her arms around her oldest brother and whispered, "I'm worried."

Bill hugged her tightly to him. "So am I," he said, his voice strained. "But he's going to be ok."

She knew he was saying it because he wanted to believe it. So did she.

* * *

Charlie didn't leave his room until hours later when he was sure the rest of his siblings had gone to bed. The kitchen was empty, and Pig was hooting softly from his perch by the window. Charlie glanced at him for a moment before taking a seat at the table and summoning parchment and a quill from the recesses of one the cupboards.

He stared at it for a moment before finally starting to write. Once he was finished, he sat and looked at the page until the words started to blur:

_I don't know how to say this, and I don't even know why you should really care at all anymore, but … well, I have some bad news. My dad died last week. Things have been kind of rough around here. I just thought that since you knew him, you might want to know. I'm staying at the Burrow for a while now if you feel like writing back.  
-Charlie_

It would have to do. He rolled it up and attached it to Pig, muttering, _"_Take it to Eleri, Pig – try not to get lost."

The owl took off into the night, and Charlie leaned against the window. He wasn't sure what he hoped would come of this. But it didn't feel like he had much of a choice.

_**A/N: Soon, I'll have all the time in the world to write. If I didn't put this up right now, though, I don't know when I ever would. We're back to Molly in the next chapter. Please read and REVIEW. **_


	52. Ron's Grief

_A/N: Before anything else, I HAVE to thank Lisa (little0bird) for helping me out with this. As you well know... there would be no chapter without you._

The next morning, the sun seemed a little brighter, and Molly felt a sense of calm she hadn't in months. When she went out to the kitchen, Andromeda had just finished preparing breakfast for the two of them, and she smiled at the other woman.

"Come take a seat," she urged her. "You have a little while left before you go back to doing everything for everyone else."

Molly smiled back and sighed as she settled into a chair.

"Thank you," she said simply, but the heartfelt conviction in her words spoke volumes, and Andromeda merely looked at her for a moment before nodding and then saying, her eyes serious, "The door is always open, you know. Don't hesitate to come here for anything you need even if it's just a break from everyone else."

Molly's lips twitched, and she said, "Don't make offers like that if you ever want to get me off your couch," and Andromeda chuckled as she poured tea for the two of them.

They passed the next 30 minutes discussing Fleur's pregnancy and Teddy, and it wasn't until Molly realized that she really should leave that they fell silent at last. Andromeda gave her a measured look before hugging her tightly. She whispered, "I meant it. You can always come back when you need a break."

Molly pulled back and nodded, trying to blink back the tears that were suddenly threatening again. Andromeda noticed, and with a quick smile, she said lightly, "Don't worry. We'll be seeing plenty of each other soon when you have a new grandchild. And who knows? If Fleur's right, and it is a girl, maybe she and Teddy will hit it off."

Now Molly smiled, and she said shakily, "Now that sounds like disaster waiting to happen. I don't think I'll tell Bill that we're already setting up his unborn child."

Andromeda shrugged and laughed. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right? Come on. I'll help you out with our floo powder. The container it's in is a little tricky."

Molly took one look at the deep boot by the fireplace and looked at Andromeda questioningly, and the older woman tried to smile, but her voice wavered as she said, "Dora always knocked over the powder. It was the only way we could be sure it would all stay in one place."

Molly sighed. They had more in common than either of them would have wished. She forced a smile.

"Thank you for everything," she said, and Andromeda forced a smile of her own.

"Like I said," she replied, "any time."

* * *

The Burrow was surprisingly calm and quiet – and empty – when Molly walked out of the fireplace. It was also clean. She wandered around the living room and into the kitchen, wondering where all of her children were. It wasn't long before she heard footsteps on the stairs, and a very surprised "oh!" popped out of Hermione's mouth. Molly gave her a small smile.

"I'm back," she said simply. "What did I miss while I was gone?"

The moment Hermione looked into her eyes, Molly knew she'd picked the right person to ask. Without another word, they sat across from one another at the table, and Hermione took a deep breath and plunged right in. She glossed over the argument between Bill and Charlie, and she minimized the panic that had gripped them all when they couldn't place Molly, but Molly was a mother, and she knew everything Hermione wasn't saying. She felt a stab of guilt, but she tried to squash it as she thanked Hermione. Hermione looked at her steadily.

"You're feeling better," she said, and it wasn't a question. Molly hesitated for a moment before nodding almost reluctantly.

"I am," she almost whispered. Hermione smiled.

"I'm glad," she said, "and the rest of them will be, too."

But Molly didn't look convinced. And when Ron walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, Hermione understood why. Because even though he'd been unabashedly worried about his mother the previous night, the look he shot her now was filled with surprise and then, suddenly, anger.

He stared at his mother for a moment before the words burst out of his mouth.

"We were _worried_," he almost shouted. "Why couldn't you let us know where you were? Did we _really_ need something else to worry about now?"

Hermione stared at him, and it was only when she realized that Molly wasn't shouting back that she turned to her. The look on her face only served to shock Hermione even more.

She was watching Ron, and she was crestfallen. Her mouth was open, but no words were coming out. And then, just as she seemed about to speak, Ron turned and stormed out of the room. Hermione looked quickly at Molly, but she motioned for her to follow him, and she obeyed instantly.

But he wouldn't talk to Hermione either. She found him in his room, and he was sitting on his bed, glowering at the opposite wall. She wondered where Harry was and then decided that was a safe question. He stared at her for a moment before saying, "He's dropping Teddy off." He bit off each word, and she just nodded. She wanted to tell him just what she'd thought of his blowup with his mother, but she knew, somehow, that she wasn't the one to do this. She needed Harry.

"Did Ginny go with him?" she asked, and Ron nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. She looked at him for a moment and then sighed. It was a good thing she'd decided not to even try to have this conversation with him. It was clear he wasn't planning on talking to her anyway.

It didn't take long for Hermione to figure out that she'd be better off waiting for Harry and Ginny in Ginny's room, and after realizing that Ron was perfectly happy sitting in a very stony silence, she left him to it and settled on her cot with a book. It wasn't long before the pair returned, but they stopped short when they entered the room and found Hermione there.

Harry read the look in her eyes immediately, and even though he'd been smiling, his expression sobered.

"What happened?" he asked, dropping down to sit beside her, and she recounted it quickly. When she was finished, Ginny looked furious and like she was about to stomp into Ron's room to give him a piece of her mind, but Harry grabbed her hand before she could take so much as a step.

"I'll talk to him," he said quietly, and Hermione almost sagged with relief. Ginny looked at him for a moment and then nodded. It was the right choice. It was the only choice.

* * *

Hours later, Ron and Harry found themselves at a small table in the back of Leaky Cauldron. Neither of them said a word until they each had a drink in hand, and Ron had already downed half of his when Harry finally decided it was time.

"So Hermione told me about your fight with your mum today," he said bluntly, and now Ron looked up so suddenly that his fire whiskey almost spilled across the table. He glared at Harry.

"What about it?" he snapped, and Harry sighed. He was defensive already? This wasn't going to be easy.

Choosing his words carefully, he said, "It's just… well, don't you think this might be the time to maybe give her a break? At least a little?"

Ron stared at him before saying, his voice very low, "I was _worried. _She's all I have left. You -- you couldn't possibly understand."

The words hung between them, and as Harry's mouth fell open, Ron flushed. He didn't say another word, so Harry took the opportunity.

"_I _don't understand?" he asked, his own voice low. "Well, I think you know that's a load of crap. If _anyone _understands how this feels, Ron, it's me. I may not remember what it was like to lose my parents, but I do know what it was like to lose Sirius… to lose Dumbledore… to lose Remus… to lose your father…"

He trailed off. Saying those names wasn't usually hard, but right now, thinking about Arthur, thinking about everything Ron was going through, his throat suddenly closed up, and he had to look down at the table for a moment.

When he looked back up, Ron was staring straight ahead, but his eyes were glistening. Harry knew that what he'd said had already hit home, but he wasn't finished. Looking straight ahead, himself, he managed to say, "I know it's hard Ron, and I know how much you want to keep your mum safe and in your sight, but she's hurting now, too, and sometimes – sometimes, you have to do what makes you feel better without worrying about anyone else. It's true for you, and it's true for her. Making her feel guilty about that now isn't going to help _either _of you."

When Ron said nothing, Harry shifted his gaze slightly, so he could see his best friend, but Ron was now staring down at the table, himself. He nodded quickly, but as Harry watched him, a tear plopped onto the scratched, wooden surface. Ron tried to scrub it out hastily, but another quickly followed.

"Come on," Harry almost whispered. "Let's get out of here."

Neither of them spoke as Harry dropped some coins on the table and guided Ron out into Diagon Alley.

"D'you want to go back to the Burrow?" Harry asked, but Ron shook his head quickly. He muttered something Harry couldn't hear, so he leaned closer, and Ron whispered, "Will you – will you come somewhere with me now?"

"Of course," Harry said immediately, and he put his hand on Ron's shoulder.

* * *

Harry didn't need to look around to know where they were. Because before he even had the chance, Ron had dropped to his knees. Silently, Harry joined him, and the two of them stared at the headstone for a long time before Ron said shakily, "You were right. And – and I know my dad would've yelled at me for the way I spoke to Mum…" he swallowed hard. "I – I never thought I'd _want _to hear my dad yell at me, you know?"

Harry nodded. And Ron suddenly turned to him and said, "I'm sorry for what I said before, Harry. Of course you know what this is like. I don't know _what_ I was thinking."

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You were upset. But, well, that's kind of the point. After – after the Battle, when I finally had time to think about all of those people, it was – well, it was almost unbearable. Your sister was there whenever I needed her to be, but she also knew when to leave me alone… and I did the same for her. You do what it takes to make yourself feel better, but you have to remember that everyone else is doing that too."

Ron didn't say anything, but he nodded. But his breathing was strained, and Harry put his hand back on his shoulder. And after a moment, Ron turned and Harry found himself with his arms around his best friend. He held on tightly and didn't say another word. It was pretty clear that _this _was what Ron needed right now.

_**A/N: Ok, I am SO sorry that this took FOREVER, but I FINALLY have free time now, so once I get myself back on track, updates should once again come as quickly as they used to. Thanks for your patience. I hope it was worth the crazy wait.**_


	53. Regret

_A/N: Thanks be to Fi (FinnFiona) for her help with part of this chapter. It only provided more angst opportunities, which we enjoy so much. ;-)_

By the time Harry got Ron back to the Burrow, they could see that Molly was setting dinner on the table. Her face was drawn, and Ron felt a pang.

"I did that to her," he whispered to Harry, and Harry looked at him worriedly, but then Ron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm just going to go apologize," he muttered to himself, and without another word to Harry, he marched into the kitchen.

Harry hesitated a moment before deciding he'd be better off in the garden right now. He'd only walked a few paces, though, when he heard a noise that made him stop short. It was sobbing, and it didn't sound like Ginny. In fact, it sounded like…

"Percy." He blurted it out without realizing he was going to say anything at all, and as Percy looked up with a start, Harry flushed deeply.

But Percy simply looked at him from his huddled position on the ground, and Harry wasn't sure he was seeing anything at all.

"I'm – I'm sorry," Harry whispered, and he'd started to back away when Percy's voice arrested him.

"Please – please don't go."

It didn't sound anything like him, but none of them were sounding much like themselves these days. Harry took a deep breath and joined Percy on the hard dirt.

There was a very long silence, and Harry was starting to wonder what on earth he was doing there when Percy muttered, "Do you think – do you think they'd have been better off if I'd never come back?"

Harry felt as if he were frozen, and he wished desperately that he'd never decided to walk in the garden. But here he was, and he knew that Percy was waiting for an answer.

He cleared his throat. "Percy, that's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said – and you know your brothers and sister would say that that's saying a lot. You made the whole family _so _happy when you came back. Don't you remember? I do."

Percy stared at him, and his eyes were glassy as he said, "But – but my mum – she's so worried about me now. I don't – I don't want to give her more to worry about."

Harry sighed. "Percy, do you honestly think she wouldn't be worrying about you more if you _weren't _here? She wouldn't survive this without _all _of you, and you _know _that. You need to stop thinking this way. It'll only make you feel worse, and this – this is hard enough already."

Percy looked as if he'd like to argue, but then he deflated and put his head back in his arms.

"I know you're right," he said, his voice muffled. "I guess – I guess I was just wondering what it would be like if I'd never come back. Maybe – maybe it wouldn't hurt as much."

But Harry shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "I know it might seem that way, but Percy – you got to have _more_ time with your dad. And while that might seem like it makes it all harder, it _doesn't. _I'd give _anything _to have had more time with my parents."

He trailed off. That lump was suddenly in his throat again, and he swallowed hard. Percy looked up at him, though, and he said quietly, "I'm sorry, Harry. You're right. I – I never thought of it that way."

Harry nodded quickly, but he didn't trust himself to say another word. After another long silence, Percy got to his feet and reached down to help Harry to his. Silently, the two walked toward the house, and as they approached the door, Percy mumbled, "Thank you."

Harry simply nodded again. Without a backward glance at Percy, he walked directly through the kitchen where Molly was hugging Ron tightly, and he went directly up to the room in the attic. Once inside, he flopped onto his cot and was concentrating on taking deep, calming breaths when there was a sudden knock on the door. He didn't answer. He couldn't. But he didn't count on Ginny opening the door and walking in.

All it took was one look. That was always all it took. His eyes filled as much as he tried to blink away the tears, and then Ginny was beside him, her arms around him, and he couldn't fight it any longer.

"I'm sorry," he choked, but she just shook her head and held him tightly.

"Thank you for talking to my brother," she whispered, and he knew that Percy had sent her to him. This was what family did, after all, and he was part of this family. But it was broken now. And he didn't know when that would stop hurting so much.

* * *

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. After Molly had apologized for her sudden disappearance, no one seemed to have much to say. Molly couldn't help but wonder if she'd made things worse, but Andromeda's words kept coming back to her… _they'll be fine. They're adults_. But they didn't seem like adults right now. It was clear that some of them were having a hard time looking at one another, and she wanted to know why, to fix it.

Once the kitchen had been wiped clean, they'd all dispersed, and Molly had taken a deep breath and was about to go through the sympathy parchments when Pig flew into the kitchen, a parchment tied to his leg.

Molly untied it and then motioned for him to go to his saucer. She was about to open it when she realized with a start that it was addressed to Charlie… and that she recognized the handwriting. _Eleri. _But … it couldn't be. She stared at it. They'd broken up ages ago. Would he really have written to her? She remembered how devastated he'd been after Eleri had moved back to Romania though he'd pretended mightily that he didn't care – at least around all of them. Molly had thought he was making a mistake in not going with her, but she'd known better than to offer her opinion that time. Charlie had still been so broken up about Fred that he wouldn't have heard her anyway. But this… maybe there was hope after all.

"Charlie!" she called up the stairs, and after a few moments, an answering clatter meant he was on his way down to the kitchen.

"Yeah?" he asked as he appeared at the bottom step. His hair was tousled, and she wondered briefly when he'd stopped caring enough to even look in a mirror. But then she realized he was waiting, and she held out the parchment.

"This just came for you," she said, struggling to keep her voice neutral.

He moved to her quickly, and one glimpse of the handwriting caused all the color to drain from his face.

"Thanks, Mum," he said quickly, but before she could say another word, he walked outside. She turned to watch him, but his back was to her as he read, and then, without turning around again, he called over his shoulder, "I'm going to Shell Cottage for a little while. I'll be back soon."

"All right," Molly called back. She sighed. She could also pretend his voice hadn't been shaking, but that didn't mean it wasn't.

* * *

Bill and Fleur were sitting with the book of baby names, and he was even smiling, when Charlie knocked on the window. They looked up with a start, and Fleur had to suppress a sigh. Every time Bill seemed like he was feeling a little bit better, someone showed up like this. And it was usually Charlie. But even as Bill leapt up to answer the door, she knew she couldn't complain. He loved his siblings, and she loved them too. She just wanted to know when this was going to get easier.

Charlie tried to smile at her when he walked in, but it was clear that he was very flustered, and Bill looked at her apologetically as he walked into the kitchen to start brewing some tea. Fleur had to swallow another sigh. It was going to be one of _those_ nights. She awkwardly pushed herself off the couch, waving off Charlie's gesture to help, though she did smile back.

"I'm zhust going to go lie down," she told him softly. "Eef eezer of you need me, zat's where I will be."

Charlie nodded, and she squeezed his hand as she passed him, kissing Bill quickly before disappearing into their bedroom.

Neither of them spoke until Bill settled the tea before them, and they sat across from each other for a long moment until Charlie shoved the parchment across the table.

Bill glanced at it and then looked at him searchingly. "You want me to read it?" he asked, and Charlie nodded impatiently.

Bill sighed and took it, reading slowly as Charlie sipped his tea and regarded him anxiously. Once he finished, he laid it down on the table, running his hand across it to spread out the creases. Finally, he looked up at Charlie and said, "What do you want me to say? She wants to come see you. Isn't that what you want?"

Charlie shrugged and let out an explosive breath. "I – I guess? I mean yeah. It would be nice to see her. But – but would it be all right if I brought her to the Burrow to stay there?"

Bill stared at him. "What're you asking me for? Ask Mum. You told her about this, didn't you?"

Charlie looked away and shook his head. "No," he said. "I came here first."

When Bill was silent for a few minutes, Charlie finally turned back to him – and was shocked to see Bill staring at him in disbelief.

"What?" Charlie asked in confusion.

Bill stared at him for a moment before he said, his voice very low, "Why _wouldn't_ you ask Mum first? It's her house. _She's _the one in charge, not me. I'm not – I'm not _Dad_, Charlie."

Charlie's mouth fell open, and he stuttered, "I – I know that, Bill. I wasn't saying…"

But Bill wasn't finished. "Everyone always thinks I should know what to do. You do it _all _the time. You did it when we couldn't find Mum. And – and it's not fair."

Charlie's face was burning with shame, and he got to his feet very quickly, almost knocking over his chair in the process. He grabbed the parchment out from under Bill's hand, and he mumbled, "I won't do it again."

And he was gone. Bill was still sitting at the table when Fleur walked into the room, bewilderment written all over her face.

"Where – where ees Charlie?" she asked, and Bill stared at her with something akin to panic.

"I don't know – I don't know what I just did," he said. "I think – I think I might just have made things worse."

Fleur sat beside him and took his hand. " 'Ow deed you make anysing worse?"

Bill squeezed her hand tightly as he managed to recount the conversation he'd just had with Charlie. Once he was finished, she sighed.

"You deed nossing wrong. Eet ees about time zat you said zis. You were right. You are not zeir fazzer."

Bill nodded, but he swallowed hard, and when she looked at him, he turned away.

"What ees eet?" she asked softly, and he choked, "I – I miss him, Fleur. It's not that I don't want to help them. I do. I always have. But I don't – I don't want to take his place. I _never _want to take his place. He is – was – he's our dad."

And then he started to cry for real, and she stood, leaning over awkwardly so she could wrap her arms around him.

" 'E always will be," she whispered, her own voice thick. "Even eef you 'elp them for ze rest of your life – and you will, Beel, because zat ees who you are, 'e will still always be your dad."

He nodded, but it was a long time before he was calm enough to speak, and when he was, the first thing he said was, "I need to apologize to Charlie."

Fleur nodded. She hadn't expected any less.

_**A/N: See? I promised faster updates, and here they are. This one sets up a lot more to come. Please read and REVIEW!**_


	54. Hope

Charlie paced back and forth, back and forth. His room in the Burrow wasn't that large, and he'd crossed it at least half a dozen times when he heard a loud knocking on his door. He wrenched it open to find George glaring at him.

"Will you _stop _walking back and forth?" he ground out. "I'm _trying _to sleep down there."

Charlie drew in a breath to snap back but didn't have the energy. He just kind of nodded and then wandered over to his bed where he collapsed with a thud.

George watched him in confusion. "Charlie?" he asked. He didn't want to push his luck – but it was very rare for his prickly older brother not to fight back. Charlie didn't answer, though, and George took a deep breath, walked into the room and stood before him. "Is – is everything all right?" he asked hesitantly.

Charlie didn't look at him, merely nodded dully. George knew he should go – knew from years of experience that trying to push Charlie to talk wasn't a good idea – but he also knew that things had changed. Maybe – maybe Charlie shouldn't be alone right now. He certainly didn't _look _like that'd be a good idea.

George reached out tentatively and pulled in a chair, sitting down slowly. When Charlie didn't shout at him to get out, George let out a little sigh of relief, but he didn't say anything else. He had no idea _what _to say. He wasn't used to seeing Charlie looking so … lost.

After an increasingly uncomfortable silence, Charlie mumbled something, but it was so quiet that George leaned in and said, "Uh… sorry, mate… I didn't hear you?"

Charlie cleared his throat and said, his voice hoarse, "D'you … are you… why wasn't Katie at Dad's funeral?"

George's mouth fell open slightly, but one look into Charlie's eyes let him know that he needed to answer this question, whether he wanted to or not. Glancing away from his older brother, he muttered, "We – we'd broken up. I didn't want to bother her."

Out of the corner of his eye, George could tell that Charlie was nodding slightly. After another, shorter pause, he said, "But – you did tell her eventually, right?"

George nodded. "Yeah. I – I ran into her in Diagon Alley. She kind of – well, she said she knew just from looking at me. She could – tell – or something. I don't know how."

Charlie sighed, and now George turned to look at him. "You going to tell Eleri?" he asked bluntly, throwing caution to the wind. If Charlie could ask about Katie, well, then he could do the same to him. Charlie stiffened, though, and it was his turn to stare at his feet. Finally, he nodded.

"I owled her," he said, his voice very low, "and she already owled back. She's – she's on her way. Should be taking a portkey here by tomorrow."

George's lips twitched, but Charlie looked right at him, and his smile faded at the despair in his brother's eyes.

"Isn't – isn't this a good thing?" George asked in confusion, but before Charlie could answer, there was a knock on his door, and they both looked up.

"Come in," Charlie called, and George looked at him sharply, caught by the weariness in his voice. Charlie could be many things, but listless was never one of them. When the door opened, though, he forgot about this when he saw Bill standing there.

Bill looked from George to Charlie to and then mumbled, "Charlie – I had to come apologize."

Charlie swallowed hard, and his voice was even rougher than usual when he said, "No, Bill. I'm really the one who ought to apologize. You were right. We – I – haven't been fair to you. I'm sorry."

For a moment, they merely stared at one another, and then Bill nodded and closed the door behind him, taking a seat beside Charlie on the bed. George stared from one to the other before he finally burst out with, "What in Merlin's name was _that _all about?"

Neither Bill nor Charlie had to look at each other as they muttered simultaneously, "Don't worry about it." Then, they smiled.

"We haven't done that in a while," Bill said, his voice suddenly a lot calmer than it had been just moments earlier. Charlie snorted.

"Remember how angry Mum would get when we used to do that at meals?" he asked, and Bill nodded, starting to laugh, too.

"Yeah, she always told us to knock it off, that she had enough on her hands with the tw— " he stopped short, his lips cold.

George was still sitting there, but now his eyes were dead.

"George, I'm sor—" Bill started, but George waved him off.

"It's all right," he said, his voice brittle. "You didn't do anything wrong."

But Bill and Charlie looked at one another miserably and sighed. They hadn't done anything wrong, no… but they sure felt like they had.

George only sat there a moment longer before mumbling something about going back to bed and bolting from the room.

Once he was gone, Bill leaned back against the wall and sighed.

"Well, now I feel awful," he said, and Charlie nodded his agreement. After a moment, he said, "I really am sorry," but Bill shook his head at him.

"No, Charlie. I've always tried to fix everything for all of you. Why would you ever think I wouldn't? It's just… sometimes…" he trailed off, but he didn't need to continue.

Charlie shook his head. "I get it, Bill. And none of us would ever try to make you replace Dad. We couldn't – and wouldn't – do that. I just – I didn't want to ask Mum about Eleri because then it would lead to too many questions…"

Bill gave Charlie a half smile. "I get that. But… did you? Ask her, that is?"

Charlie nodded. "She said it was fine. She didn't even ask _too_ many questions."

Bill looked relieved, but … Charlie didn't. He looked at him in confusion, and Charlie finally said in a very low voice, "I don't know why she's coming. I really don't."

Bill voice was patient, but it was costing him great effort.

"You wrote to her, didn't you?"

Charlie nodded grudgingly, and Bill sighed in exasperation.

"Well, that's why she's coming."

"She could have just written back," Charlie grumbled, and Bill rolled his eyes. Sometimes, there was just no talking to him.

* * *

George could not fall back to sleep. He was lying on his back, his eyes wide open, when he finally muttered, "Oh, well, blast this," and got out of bed again.

It was tempting, suddenly, to pace as Charlie had been doing, but the last thing he wanted right then was to have a knock on _his _door from Percy, of all people, so he contented himself with sneaking down to the kitchen, hoping a snack would make him feel better.

But when he looked into the cupboards, he realized he wasn't hungry. Food wasn't what he wanted. And suddenly, he knew what he was looking for. Without another moment's hesitation, he grabbed a cloak from the hook on the door and hurried outside to the disapparation point.

When he reappeared in Diagon Alley, he looked up and was pleased to find that he'd managed to land himself directly in front of Katie's flat. Ignoring the fact that it was the middle of the night, he made his way up to the second story and rapped sharply on her door.

There was a long delay, and he was about knock again, when he heard Katie's sleep-fuzzed voice saying "Who's there?"

Suddenly, his mouth was very, very dry. What if she didn't want to see him? What if he were presuming too much on their last conversation? What if – what if – and then he realized she was still waiting AND probably worried now about who was on the other side of her door.

"It's – it's George," he finally croaked, and then the door was open, and Katie was staring at him, her brown eyes soft with concern.

"Come in," she said softly, and he mutely followed her into the living room. But the sight of the couch where they'd spent so many lazy afternoons made his eyes sting unexpectedly, and he somehow managed to collapse onto a cushion and close his eyes, hoping she'd give him a minute to reign in his emotions.

But Katie sat beside him and put her hand on his arm, and everything he'd been trying to forget, everything he'd been trying to brush off, everything he'd been trying to tell himself would be all right… everything just spilled out, and he felt his breath coming in hitching sobs as much as he tried to hold them back.

And Katie didn't say a word. She never had, not even on those nights years ago when he'd woken her out of a deep sleep, sobbing and calling for Fred. She'd just held him tightly until the worst of it had passed, and suddenly, that's what she was doing now, and George just collapsed into it, letting her hold him and stroke his hair until he finally managed to get himself back under control.

When he was calm enough to speak, Katie pulled away far enough to look him in the eye, and he mumbled, "Thanks. I don't know why…"

He trailed off, but she nodded slightly, understanding in her eyes, and he found himself sighing with relief as he slouched on the couch.

Somehow, they were once again in the positions they had perfected many months ago, with Katie's head on George's lap as he ran his fingers through her long brown hair. For a long time, neither of them said a word, and then Katie tried to suppress a yawn as she asked, "So what happened before you got here tonight?"

George closed his eyes, the conversation between Bill and Charlie suddenly echoing back to him, and his voice was strained when he said, "Well, I think Bill and Charlie got into a fight."

He opened his eyes to see Katie's startled expression, but he smiled grimly as he said, "Don't worry. They made up. I was in Charlie's room when Bill came over to apologize. I got to see their little _reconciliation_."

His voice was so bitter that Katie stared at him in surprise, but then he added, "And I got to watch them say the same stupid thing at the same stupid time," and she could hear the tremor in his voice that he was trying to hide.

She reached over to take the hand that was smoothing her hair, and he suddenly stopped talking. His grip on her hand tightened as he clenched his jaw, and then Katie asked softly, "George, is there something I can do for you now? Something that would make you feel better?"

She didn't think he was going to answer, but then he asked, his voice hoarse, "Would you – would you go to the graveyard with me?"

She couldn't say no. She nodded and then motioned for him to wait as she went into the other room, where she leaned for a moment against the door, her eyes wide, before she forced herself to dress quickly. When she went back out, he was sitting and waiting for her, his jaw still clenched, his lips pressed tightly together. He stood when she approached and held out his hand silently.

Once in Diagon Alley, he turned and then they were both standing in the dark graveyard, and Katie felt a chill course down her spine. Of course she knew logically that she didn't have to be afraid of ghosts. She just hoped any hanging around here were of the Nearly Headless Nick variety.

But she didn't have time to think about any of that all of a sudden. Because they were in front of Fred's grave, and she had to keep her arm firmly around George's waist as his knees buckled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his face scarlet, but she just shook her head and waited until he'd managed to regain his footing. Once he did, she left her arm where it was, and she could feel his slight trembling. She said nothing, but she wasn't surprised when he started talking.

"I miss you," George was saying, his voice shaking terribly. "I miss having someone who understands me even more than the way Bill and Charlie understand each other. I miss having someone who would know exactly how much I miss Dad right now. And I'm jealous. Can you believe I'm jealous of you, Fred? But I am. Because you and Dad get to be together right now, and there's _nothing _I want more right now than to be with the two of you."

Katie's eyes were full of tears, but before she could say anything, George was in her arms again. When he could speak, he whispered, "Thank you. I promise that the next time I see you, it'll be happier."

She let out a weak laugh as she pulled away and scrubbed at her face with her hands.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, George Weasley."

But he looked at her for a long moment and then leaned in for a kiss.

"I'm not," he said.

_**A/N: I knew I had to put this up tonight or risk Fi's wrath. I hope I made up for being so evil. And Lisa, I know it was sad, but I gave you another G/K kiss here, so that's got to count for something. Please read and REVIEW! **_


	55. Hermione's Grief

Hermione left work early the next day. She'd been drafting memos for hours, and by 4:30, the words were blurring on the page. She pushed back in her chair, rubbing her hands over her face. It was time to go. She knew that. But somehow… she wasn't in a rush to get back to Grimmauld Place.

Suddenly, she stood up decisively. She'd just … stop at the Leaky Cauldron for a quick pint. It was early. Ron still wouldn't be home for hours.

She sighed as she found her way to the lift, wondering why she was making these excuses to herself. There was no reason for her to make excuses about this. She wasn't doing anything wrong. She was just… thirsty. It had nothing to do with avoidance because she wasn't avoiding anything.

She wasn't. She just… had to keep telling herself that.

When she arrived at the Cauldron, she sagged with relief when she didn't recognize one person. It wasn't often that she managed to find anonymity anywhere in Diagon Alley, and this was an unexpected pleasure.

She was sitting there, nursing her cider, trying not to think about anything at all, when she heard a very familiar voice say wonderingly, "Hermione? Is that you?"

A smile spread across her own face before she even finished turning around.

"Neville," she said happily. "Come pull up a chair."

As he complied, she wondered briefly about the last time she'd seen him and then remembered with a flash the image of him sitting white faced and silent at Arthur's funeral. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the unwelcome image, glancing instead at the textbooks she just realized he was carrying. He flushed slightly as he said, "Herbology. Hannah – Hannah thinks it'd be a good idea if I brushed up on some of the plants before I even try for that position at Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded her approval, and Neville thought for a moment that she looked very much like she had when they were in school, and he was sure she was going to pepper him with a thousand more questions. For a moment, she even thought of doing just that. Then, without stopping to think about what she was doing or what she was about to say, she did something she never had in all of their years at school. She shoved the books away from her so she could rest her elbows on the table and, propping her chin on her hands, she looked into his eyes and said quietly, "You've never told me about your parents, Neville."

He stared at her, his eyes wide. She was right, of course. He hadn't told her about his parents. But why – why would he? But then he looked at her again, and he knew why. It was Arthur. It was the pain of losing someone that now burned in her eyes. It made sense, but… he wondered … could _this _really help?

She was waiting, he realized. Maybe it would. Either way, he didn't seem to have much of a choice.

He cleared his throat, automatically flipping open his notebook and pulling a pen from his shirt pocket.

"I – I don't remember what they were like – before the curse," he started, his voice low. He knew Hermione was watching him, but he was staring at the paper in front of him as his pen traced loops along the page.

"The first time I think I even knew they were still alive was when I was four. That was when Gran took me to Mungo's to see them. It must've not been the first time, but I can't remember anything before it. And I didn't even know we were going to see my parents. I guess she tried to explain it, but it didn't really sink in until we were in their room."

He stopped then to take a few deep breaths. The lines were crossing over each other now, and he could no longer see where he'd started. Finally, when Hermione wasn't so sure he was going to continue, he said, "I think maybe I knew right away, you know? Because I looked at my dad, and, well – I look like him. _And _my mum. And – and didn't someone once say that a child will always know his parents? Because I knew mine. But – but they didn't know me."

And he had to stop again. Hermione's eyes were filling, and she stared down at the page, too, wondering if there would ever be a way to untangle all of these messes, to put everything right, the way it should be…

But then Neville was speaking again, his voice even softer.

"We went every week after that. And, well, you saw what it was like. My mum would hand me small things occasionally, like a candy wrapper or a bit of paper. And I know Gran expected me to throw them away, but I just couldn't, you know?"

He still didn't look up, still didn't pull his pen from the paper, but he knew Hermione was nodding. He hoped she couldn't also hear how strained his breathing had gotten, but he couldn't stop now. It was, he realized, the first time he'd ever told anyone all of this. And Hermione _wanted _to know. No one – no one had ever really asked before.

"I don't know, Hermione," he said. "I've never known what it was like to have parents even though Gran always tells me not to say that, that I do have parents, that they're heroes. And I know all of that, of course, but it isn't the same, really."

He shook his head, thinking of his grandmother and was surprised, suddenly, to feel Hermione's hand on his arm. He stared at it for a moment, and his voice trembled when he said, "It's not like what you have …"

He pursed his lips tightly together, and he knew Hermione understood because suddenly, her hand was gone, and they were each in their own little separate pools of misery, each struggling to breathe normally before finally looking up.

But when Hermione did look up, Neville knew it would take a lot longer for her to regain control. Her eyes were glassy, and it was only partially due to the cider she'd finished in the time he'd been talking.

"Hermione?" he asked, but she waved his concern aside even as she stumbled to her feet.

"I'm all right," she mumbled, but Neville knew nothing could be further from the truth, and he leapt to his feet to assist her. When she felt his arm encircle her, she couldn't even argue, just leaned into the support and let him drop some coins on the table before helping her back out the door and into Diagon Alley.

For a moment, they stood there silently, Neville's arm still around Hermione's waist, Hermione still slumped against his shoulder. Finally, he asked quietly, his voice slightly more hoarse than usual, "Would you like me to help you get back home?"

She tried to shake her head, to say that she could make it just fine by herself, but she surprised herself when she nodded, still not quite able to speak. Neville merely nodded in response and said "Grimmauld Place?"

"Yes," she managed to whisper, and without another word passing between them, Neville tightened his grasp on her and turned on the spot, both of them reappearing moments later in the alley next to the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He helped her up the stairs, and she turned to him then, her struggle for control painfully clear.

"Would you – would you like to come in?" she mumbled, and he was about to shake his head, thinking that there was nothing he wanted more right now than to see Hannah, to have her talk to him about plants, to completely forget that this whole conversation had ever happened, but he couldn't ignore the pleading in Hermione's eyes.

"Sure," he said, hoping she wouldn't hear his reluctance. He needn't have worried. Her thoughts were clearly so tangled that she'd already turned to the door and was fumbling with her key. Neville reached out a hand to steady hers, and once they got the door open, she let him guide her into the house.

Ron and Harry were in the sitting room, and they looked up, startled to find that Hermione wasn't alone. But their surprise turned to confusion when she merely mumbled a quick hello and then bolted for the stairs. Moments later, they heard the shower running, and that was when Harry turned to Neville, trying for a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

"It's good to see you, Neville," he said quietly. "Come on in. Sit down." He gestured for their old friend to take a seat, and when Neville complied, Ron also tried to smile, but he, too, failed spectacularly.

For a few minutes, the three sat there, making increasingly awkward small talk, and then Ron finally muttered something about Hermione's shower using more water than anyone could reasonably tolerate, and he left the room.

Once he was gone, Neville sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. When he removed his hand, he saw that Harry was looking at him with what he could only call complete understanding, and Neville sighed.

"She asked," he said, almost desperately. And even though Harry was nodding, Neville continued. "I didn't want to tell her about my parents, but she seemed like she really need to know…"

Here he trailed off because Harry's eyes had widened.

"She – she asked about _that_?" he asked, his voice strangely hushed, and Neville nodded, looking away from his friend's penetrating gaze.

Harry cleared his throat, but his voice was just as quiet when he said, "I'm – I'm sorry, Neville. Obviously, we're all having a hard time accepting what's happened to – to Arthur. But you know Hermione. She just tries to help everyone else and never lets anyone else help _her_. I'm sure – I'm sure talking to you helped."

Neville shrugged, still keeping his face carefully turned away.

"I hope so," he said, his voice unnaturally strained. "I think – I think that even as hard as I know this is for Ron and Ginny and all of them – well, they _knew _their dad. You know?"

Harry felt his own throat tighten, and he only managed a small sound of assent. He did know.

* * *

Ron, meanwhile, was standing outside of the bathroom door. The shower was running, and he'd had his hand poised to knock since he'd gotten there, but he knew now that he couldn't. Because the running water wasn't the only sound materializing from behind the bathroom door. It was mingled with the sobs that Hermione always tried to control, to hide from him, and the sound of her anguish brought him to his knees.

He turned and slid down to sit beside the door, his back to the wall. She needed to be alone for this, and if anyone understood that, he did. But he couldn't bring himself to leave. And when she finally emerged, wrapped in a large towel, her eyes red and swollen, he was still there. She looked down at him and opened her mouth to speak, but a sob came out instead.

She shook her head, crying, "I'm sorry," before rushing past him to get to their bedroom. He jumped to his feet and caught her arm before she could close the door on him, and he pulled her in, closing the door behind both of them.

"_I'm_ sorry," he said now, trying to force her to look at him, but she insisted on keeping her head down, her tears mingling with the water dripping from her hair onto the bedspread. She shook her head, and he put his hand under her chin, forcing her head up so he could look at her. The pain in her eyes made his breath catch in his throat, and to his horror, his own eyes started stinging. Hoping she wouldn't notice, he forced the words past the lump in his throat as he said, "I – I shouldn't have pushed you away that day. I yelled at my mum, and I might as well have shouted at you too."

Now Hermione was shaking her head, and she put her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched. After a few minutes of sitting there in silence, she whispered, "I – I made Neville tell me about his parents."

Ron's eyes popped open in surprise, and she flushed and looked back down at the bed. "I must've had more to drink than I'd thought," she admitted, and then she looked back up at him, and her eyes were troubled. "Do you think I made things harder for him?"

Ron's lips twisted. "Than they already are, you mean? I doubt it. I don't think a short conversation will hurt Neville. If anything, he probably appreciated that you wanted to know. I don't get the impression he's ever really talked about this much with anyone."

She nodded, but she continued to worry her lower lip between her teeth, and Ron sighed.

"If it'll make you feel better, get dressed and come downstairs. He's probably still with Harry. And then maybe after he goes, we can go to the Burrow tonight?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and she knew he was almost embarrassed that he wanted to be home so often. Getting off the bed and pulling clothes from the closet, she said lightly, "I'm glad you asked. I was thinking about going there today, too."

And as she pulled a shirt over her head, she caught a glimpse of the relief in Ron's eyes and mentally patted herself on the back. At least she'd done _something _right tonight.

* * *

Harry and Neville had somehow managed to find their way back to a somewhat normal conversation, but it came to a dead halt with the entrance of Ron and Hermione. Neville's eyes locked with Hermione's, and he stood almost involuntarily as she went to him and put her arms around him, whispering, "I'm so sorry I asked. That wasn't – it wasn't very fair of me."

But Neville shook his head, his arms tightening around her as he whispered, "It's all right, Hermione. It's probably not such a bad idea if I talk about it every once in a while. You know," he said, and she could hear the almost-smile in his voice as he added, "with someone other than Gran."

Now she pulled away, and they smiled at each other. "Thanks," she said, and he simply nodded before saying, "I really should be getting back to the Cauldron. Hannah will wonder where I've gone since I left all of my things there."

As Hermione stepped back, Harry reached out to shake Neville's hand, and then Neville turned to Ron. For a moment, they looked at each other, and then Ron surprised them both by stepped forward and hugging Neville briefly, muttering, "Thanks for bringing her back here."

Neville looked slightly surprised when Ron released him, but he straightened his face quickly, nodding and then walking out of the house. He couldn't help but feel guilty that he hadn't been visiting the Weasleys more. As much as he knew Ron thought he was hiding his pain, it was clear how much he was struggling right now. Neville resolved to be a better friend as he apparated back to Diagon Alley. He wondered what Hannah would think of visiting the family this weekend. Fleetingly, he wondered if maybe Luna would want to go too.

Harry, Ron and Hermione apparated to the Burrow shortly after Neville had gone, but when they arrived, they all stopped short. A young woman was standing in front of the gate, and she was looking toward the house, but she wasn't moving.

"Can I help y…" Ron started, but he froze, his words trailing off when she turned around.

"Hi Ron," she said, her smile weak and her eyes sad.

"El – Eleri," he stuttered. He couldn't seem to say anything else. And as Eleri turned to smile at Harry and Hermione, she could see he wasn't the only one who was speechless. She turned back to the Burrow and sighed. This – this wasn't going to be easy.

_**A/N: I have to thank Lisa and Mary for this one, Mary for your review suggestion and Lisa for the guided tour through Neville's mind. You're good at this, you know? I hope you all like it. It's definitely taken another turn! Please read and REVIEW!**_


	56. Letting them in

Eleri was standing very still, staring at the Burrow through weary eyes, when Ron finally cleared his throat and motioned towards the house.

"Are you – are you going in?" he asked, and she looked at him for a long moment before nodding slowly and forcing her feet to follow him as he moved to go inside. She was aware of Harry and Hermione following them, but she realized halfway there that she'd yet to say the most important thing to any of them.

"Ron?" she said tentatively, and he half-turned to her as he continued walking, looking at her curiously out of the corner of his eye. She sighed. She figured she'd better get used to that suspicious look here. "I—I just wanted to say that I was so sorry to hear about your dad. He really was such a nice man."

Now Ron turned away quickly, nodding but not saying another word, and Eleri had to suppress another sigh. Ron was the brother she'd always thought to be the most like Charlie. She knew, suddenly, that this would be a lot harder than she'd expected.

But she hadn't expected to find Bill and Fleur sitting in the kitchen when she followed Ron through the door, and all of the color drained from her face as they stared at her, Fleur's mouth falling open in surprise. It only took a moment for her to close it and then get awkwardly to her feet. Eleri noticed the gentle swell instantly and rushed to her old friend's side before she could take another step. They were hugging tightly when Fleur whispered, "'E will be so glad you are 'ere. You will see."

Eleri nodded against Fleur's shoulder, feeling tears stinging her eyes for the first time.

"I hope you're right," she whispered. After another moment, she pulled away reluctantly, knowing she still had to face Bill, knowing it wouldn't be quite the same tearful reunion.

She was right. Bill's face was grim, and she became vaguely aware of Ron, Hermione and Harry edging into the living room, away from the impending conversation. She half-wished she could join them, but fear of finding Charlie stopped her. She wasn't ready yet.

"Eleri," Bill said, and then, suddenly, his face relaxed into a cautious smile. "I'm glad you're here."

She looked at him for a moment before nodding slowly. "I think I am too," she said slowly.

Bill gestured for her to take a seat as he and Fleur resumed their places at the long table, and he said, "There are – there are some things you should know before you see Charlie. He's– well, he's not handling this whole thing very well."

Eleri swallowed hard. She'd been afraid of that. But she kept her eyes on Bill and nodded, hoping that she was conveying the message that she was here to help – that she knew Charlie needed _her _help. Bill shook his head and sighed.

"I know you two didn't have the easiest time when you moved back to Romania after – after Fred…," and he trailed off for a moment, turning his face away from both women. His Adam's apple bobbed, and Eleri looked at Fleur, but Fleur was rubbing Bill's back in small circles, her eyes pained. Eleri waited silently.

After a few minutes, Bill turned back to them, clearing his throat, but he did not look directly at Eleri anymore as he said, "Charlie didn't talk much about what happened between the two of you after he came back again, but I really don't think that'll matter much to him right now…"

Bill trailed off again, but this time Eleri spoke.

"I'm here for as long as he needs me," she said, her voice low. He glanced at her quickly and then nodded.

"Good," he said briskly. "And – well – you know Charlie. Don't – try not to let him scare you off, ok?"

Eleri's lips twisted in what was supposed to be a smile but looked a lot more like a grimace.

"Don't worry, Bill," she reassured him. "I kind of know what to expect."

She knew she was right. But she still wasn't ready to see him, and they continued to sit at the table in an increasingly uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione missed the conversation in the kitchen because the moment they set foot in the living room, they stopped short in surprise. George and Katie were lying on the sofa, and he had his arms wrapped around her as they murmured softly to each other. They looked up at the intrusion, and for a moment, the five of them stared at each other. Katie took in Hermione's white face and the tiny lines around her mouth, and then she pulled herself out of George's resisting arms and stood up. Intuitively, she reached for Hermione, and Hermione was so surprised by her old friend's instant compassion that she found herself in her arms, struggling once again to hold back her tears. Katie whispered, "Let's go for a walk, huh?" and Hermione nodded, unable to get a word out.

Keeping her arm around Hermione, Katie propelled her from the room, but she glanced back once at George, who was watching her with a mixture of love and anxiety. And as she turned back, she caught a glimpse of Ron's face, and she understood. It was quite possible that she'd taken on the easier of the two.

Harry, after only a moment's hesitation, followed the girls out, and that left George and Ron to themselves. Ron joined his brother on the sofa, sighing deeply as he leaned his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. George was good about not pushing him to talk when he didn't want to, and he most definitely didn't want to right now.

But… the minute he closed his eyes, Hermione's face floated before him, her eyes red and swollen, and he suddenly found breathing difficult. No. He couldn't do this now – not to George and not to himself. He tried to force the image out of his mind, but it wouldn't work. Maybe George wouldn't notice…

George sat beside Ron, fully aware of his little brother's anguish, but he didn't say a word as he kept glancing at him, noting the strain on his face and his labored breathing. George sighed. Ron didn't take kindly to conversation when he was so clearly feeling miserable, but George knew he'd have to answer to Katie if he didn't at least try. Then he looked at Ron again and admitted something else to himself: he wanted to try.

He took a deep breath and then said, "Hermione seemed pretty shaken up. Is everything all right?"

Ron didn't open his eyes, but he mumbled, "She's all right. She's just… she's all right."

George didn't respond, just continued to look at Ron until he finally opened his eyes. When he did, the pain in them almost took George's breath away, but he continued to wait, knowing that Ron would talk. He just had to be patient.

And after a few minutes, Ron said, his voice unsteady, "It's just – she met up with Neville in the Leaky Cauldron, and – and I don't even know what she was doing in the Cauldron. That's – that's not where Hermione goes. And when she got back – well, she went straight to the loo to shower, and …"

And his throat closed, and he couldn't continue. He sat very still, hoping that if he didn't move, that if he hardly breathed, that if he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, he'd be able to forget what he'd heard through the running water.

But then George did exactly what he knew Ron was hoping he wouldn't. He put his hand on his shoulder; Ron put his face in his hands, and George didn't say another word as he felt his little brother's shoulder start trembling.

* * *

Katie and Hermione were deep into the orchard by now, and Hermione felt marginally calmer as they walked. Finally, by silent, mutual consent, they stopped at a low wall and sat side by side. Hermione knew that Katie wouldn't break the silence, so she said, "Thanks for this," in a very soft voice.

Katie glanced over at her and then looked away, saying, "You're welcome. Is there anything that I can do to help?"

Hermione smiled, but it faded quickly, and she shook her head. "This helps. But no, it's really nothing new. It's just," she gestured around her and looked at Katie as she bit her lip, her eyes burning again. "It's all of this," she choked. "I miss him, too. It's – it's really hard, you know?"

She hung her head, and then she felt Katie's hand on her shoulder, and she leaned in until Katie's arm was entirely around her. The tears dripped onto Hermione's jeans, and Katie's grip tightened until the trembling finally stopped. Then she said quietly, "I know it's hard. But… well, everyone knows that you take care of Ron, and I really don't know if this is my place to say anything, but … I think that sometimes you forget to take care of yourself."

Hermione let out a shuddering breath as she nodded.

"I know you're right," she said, and her voice sounded defeated. She sighed and looked up at Katie. "It's just that he needs so much right now, and – well, you _know _him. You know he'd never _ask_. It's like I always have to know what he needs when he needs it. It just – well, it doesn't leave me much _time _to take care of myself."

Katie shook her head in exasperation, but when she looked at Hermione, she was smiling in sympathy.

"I do understand, you know. George is the same way. I think all of them are. None of those Weasleys ever _ask _for help. But I think – I think it would hurt Ron more if he knew that you were hurting so much because you were too busy helping him to help yourself. Let him help you, too. You know he wants to."

Hermione let out a deep breath, and she nodded.

"I know you're right. It's hard, though. When he wakes up in the middle of the night like that…" she trailed off, and her lip was trembling again, but Katie merely pulled her in closer, murmuring, "I know."

And Hermione knew that she did. She leaned her head on Katie's shoulder and closed her eyes. Maybe – maybe she could let him help her. Maybe it would help both of them.

* * *

By the time Ron was calm enough to move his hands away from his face and sit up, his ears were scarlet, and George was careful to keep his eyes facing forward. And when Ron showed no sign of wanting to talk, George sighed inaudibly and said, "When Katie and I got back together, she told me something that I'd never really thought of before. She said that I wasn't the only one who was upset about – about Dad. She said she was sad too and that we needed to help each other. And honestly, Ron, if she hadn't flat-out said the words, I don't know if I'd have ever understood that, but it makes sense, no?"

Ron cast a sidelong glance at him, unwilling to let George see his face, and then he sighed.

"It's true," he admitted. "I _know_ Hermione misses Dad, too. Of course she does. It's just – it's hard to talk about, you know? It's like – it's hard enough to deal with it when it's just us. I don't want to drag her down, too."

George shook his head. "Really, Ron, we shouldn't be so similar. It isn't good for my reputation," he said wryly. Then he added, his voice more serious, "I said that to Katie, too. She called me an idiot. Apparently, it's harder for them when we _don't _try to drag them down with us because when we do, then they get to know what we're going through, _and _they canget it out themselves."

Ron sighed. "I know. It's just – it's going to be tough."

George clapped his hand on Ron's shoulder again and said, "It was harder our way. These girls, Ron – they know what they're talking about. We should trust them more."

Ron thought about this for a moment before he realized something, and he said, "Speaking of that… Eleri's here. She walked in with us before. Charlie must've written to her and let her know what was going on."

George's mouth fell open, and he stared at Ron for a moment before snapping it shut and nodding thoughtfully.

"Well, it can't hurt," he murmured, and Ron nodded vehemently. They were in complete agreement on _that_.

* * *

Hermione and Katie were walking back to the Burrow, and they were discussing Hermione and Ron's upcoming wedding, when they both overheard murmuring from behind a grove of trees. Glancing at each other curiously, they simultaneously slowed their pace as they tried to distinguish the voices. But it wasn't until they were nearly past them that Hermione understood, and her eyes were pained as she realized what she'd overheard.

Katie looked at her in confusion, and Hermione quickened her pace, motioning for Katie to keep up as she whispered, "That – that was Harry and Molly. I'm pretty sure they were talking about his and Ginny's wedding."

Hermione didn't say any more. She couldn't. She knew what she'd heard in Harry's voice, and she understood. Her own wedding was at least a year away, and she knew how hard that was going to be. This wedding … well, it was happening in just one short month. It was going to be impossible, and it _shouldn't _be. No wedding should be as hard as Harry and Ginny's was bound to be. Hermione's heart ached, and she resolved to talk to Harry about this later. He'd never ask, but she knew that with Ginny away, she and Ron were all he had. There really wasn't a choice.

* * *

By the time they got back to the Burrow, Ron and George had joined the others in the kitchen, and Eleri was standing at the foot of the stairs. As Hermione and Katie entered, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and began to climb. She couldn't stall any longer. It was time to see Charlie.

_**A/N: Well, sorry it's taken so long, but the update is here at last. And we continue to go full speed ahead with the story. If you want to know more about Eleri, go to my profile and read Charlie's Return. She'll make a lot more sense. Please read and REVIEW!!**_


	57. Problems and Solutions?

Eleri stared at the door, and then, before she could think about this for another minute, she raised her hand and knocked sharply. There was a momentary pause, and then she almost smiled when she heard Charlie's familiar, gruff voice yell "Come in."

She opened the door slowly, and she didn't miss the way Charlie's eyes widened as she found him sitting on his bed, sketchbook in hand. He put it down slowly as he continued to stare at her, but he didn't say a word until she stepped further into the room, closing the door partway behind her.

Clearing her throat, Eleri finally managed to say, "I got your letter."

Charlie nodded slightly, and she was beginning to wonder if he were ever going to speak when he muttered, "You didn't have to come. That's not why I wrote."

It was Eleri's turn to be speechless, and her hand convulsed where it was still holding onto the door.

"Well, I thought it might be nice," she finally said, her voice brittle. She took a deep breath, trying to remember everything Bill had just said, but she still found herself saying, "But if you'd rather I hadn't…"

Charlie shrugged then, and Eleri had to take another steadying breath.

"Fine," she said shortly. "As soon as I can get another portkey, I'll be on my way. Sorry for bothering you."

She'd turned and had almost closed the door behind her when she thought she heard Charlie's voice. Instinctively, she half-turned, her hand still on the door. She stood there silently and was almost sure she'd been wrong, that he'd said nothing, when a moment later a very low voice said, "Please don't."

Charlie still wasn't looking up, but his hands were tightly clenched, and she stepped back into the room and eased the door all the way closed.

She leaned against the door but didn't make another move to leave. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and then Charlie muttered, "I'm – I'm sorry. It was nice of you to come. I just didn't want you to think I only wrote to you so you would."

Eleri sighed. "You could have, you know. You had to know that I'd come anyway as soon as I got that. I'm sorry about your dad, Charlie. I really am. He was such a nice man."

Charlie nodded jerkily, just as Ron had, but he didn't look at her.

"Thanks," he mumbled. He was still looking down, but he added, "You know he liked you."

Eleri swallowed hard. She did know that, but hearing Charlie say it made all of this more real than it had been yet. She stared at her feet as she managed a small nod. She didn't trust herself to speak.

* * *

Hermione and Ron had been exchanging shy glances since they'd been reunited in the kitchen, and once Eleri had gone up to Charlie, Ron motioned for Hermione to come outside. With a quick glance at Katie, who was smiling at her encouragingly, Hermione flushed slightly as she got to her feet and wordlessly followed him.

Once they were alone, Ron pulled Hermione into his arms and held her tightly to him, smoothing her hair with one hand as he kept the other arm firmly around her waist. Hermione melted into him, closing her eyes and relaxing for what felt like the first time in months.

They stood in a companionable silence until Ron sighed and loosened his grip. Hermione tried to step back, but he didn't let go, simply moved his head back so he could look into her eyes.

"I do love you, you know," he said, and she was surprised to hear that he sounded breathless. She smiled and said, "I love you too."

He pulled her in for a kiss, and when they finally broke apart, Ron's voice was husky when he said, "Let's go home."

Hermione nodded, and they were hastening toward the disapparation point when she stopped short.

Ron stopped too, surprised. "What is it?" he asked, and she bit her lip. She didn't want to stop this now – she _really_ didn't – but she didn't feel like there was much of a choice.

"It's just… Harry…" she said slowly, but Ron shook his head and grabbed her hand.

"He'll understand," he said emphatically. "Trust me. Let's go."

But she shook her head.

"It's not that," she tried to explain. "When Katie and I were in the garden, we overheard him talking to your mum. They were talking about the wedding. He didn't – he didn't sound so great."

Ron looked as if she'd let the air out of his sails, and Hermione almost wanted to cry. He'd finally been happy, and here she was, dragging him right back down again. She swallowed and then said, "You know what? We don't even know where he is now. We'll see him when he gets home. You were right. Let's just go."

It was Ron's turn to hesitate. "Well – if you think he needs us – " But his eyes told a different story, and Hermione smiled at him.

"We'll talk to him later," she said, looking directly into his eyes. "Take me home, Ronald Weasley."

He didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

Hours later, Harry still hadn't returned to Grimmauld Place, and Ron was starting to worry.

"But where do you think he is?" he asked Hermione for the fifth time in as many minutes, and she tried not to roll her eyes.

"Wherever he wants to be," she said, working hard to keep the exasperation – and worry – out of her own voice. "I'm sure he'll be home soon."

Ron nodded and settled back against the couch with his Quidditch magazine once more, but it wasn't long before he was bouncing around impatiently yet again.

"We need one of those tracking devices on him," he grumbled, almost to himself, and Hermione looked up from her own book, amused.

"A tracking device?" she asked, and Ron nodded insistently.

"Yes. Didn't you say that Muggles have that new kind of fellytone? The mobilus, or something?"

She tried not to laugh, but her lips quirked as she said, "It's called a mobile, Ron. It's a new type of _telephone_. Honestly, _when _will you remember that word already? I don't even understand where the whole _fellytone _nonsense _comes _from. The word isn't that difficult."

He stared back down into his magazine then without answering her, and her smile faded instantly as her breath caught in her throat. After a strained silence, she managed to get her voice to work.

"Ron … that's what your dad called it, isn't it…"

It wasn't a question. It didn't have to be. The way the magazine was now trembling in Ron's hands was enough of answer.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Ron's head twitched in a quick nod. For a long time, neither of them said another word although Hermione could hardly see the words on the page anymore.

They were startled out of their reveries by the sound of the front door. Hermione got up quickly to go meet Harry, pretending not to notice as Ron surreptitiously wiped at his face with his sleeve before following her.

Harry, himself, looked distinctly worse for the wear. He stared at Hermione as she walked toward him, and then before he even realized what was happening, she was flinging her arms around him and hugging him tightly, and his arms automatically wrapped themselves around her waist.

"I heard you in the garden with Molly," she whispered, and his hold tightened. After a moment where he said nothing, she added, "I don't want to pry, but maybe we could … help?"

Harry swallowed hard. He wanted to let them help. He did. But … this was going to be hard enough for them when it was their turn. Why should they have to go through it twice?

"Thanks," he whispered into her shoulder. "It'll be ok."

Now she pulled back to look at him skeptically, and he noticed Ron leaning against the wall, also watching him. Looking only at Ron, he said, "Ginny – doesn't know who's going to walk her down the aisle."

Then his throat closed, and he found that he couldn't say another word. Hermione kept her hand gently on his back, and she directed him into the living room with Ron following. She and Ron sat in the armchairs and let Harry have the couch to himself, where he collapsed, leaning his head back and sighing.

For a long time, none of them spoke, and then Ron cleared his throat. "Well, why doesn't Mum do it?" he asked.

Harry turned his head slightly to look at his best mate, and his eyes widened slightly.

"You know, that's a pretty good idea," he said slowly. "Your mum thought maybe Bill would do it. I know Ginny was thinking of asking him…"

Ron nodded speculatively. "That's not a bad idea either. I wonder how Bill would feel about it… but I guess you won't know until you ask."

Harry sighed. "Ginny's coming home this weekend. I think she wants to go to Shell Cottage straight away and ask. We'll know soon enough."

Hermione looked at him steadily then and said, "No matter what, it's going to be a hard day, Harry. But it's also a wonderful day. You have to keep trying to remember that."

He nodded. He knew. It didn't make this any easier.

* * *

Charlie and Eleri hadn't said a word to each other in the 15 minutes she'd now been in the room. She was still standing by the door. He was still sitting on his bed. They were alternately looking at each other and then quickly looking away.

Finally, when Eleri realized that she was waiting for a conversation that was in all likelihood never going to happen, she cleared her throat and said, "Well. I'll just be going now."

This time, Charlie looked up, and an expression of alarm flashed across his usually stoic features. Without even knowing why, Eleri hastened to add, "I'm not going back to Romania. I've rented a room in the village. I'll be… around?"

It was a question, and the relief that flitted across Charlie's face was more than enough of an answer. But even as she managed what she hoped resembled a smile before letting herself out of the room, she wondered why it even mattered. They'd hardly said more than five words to each other.

She'd thought she'd known what she was getting herself into here. She was sure Charlie needed her. She was sure she was right when she told Bill that she knew how to handle him. But right now, she wasn't sure of anything. She hoped to find the kitchen empty so she could slip away without any more complications, but there was one person there, and she stopped short as Molly Weasley looked up from her contemplation of the table and stared at her in shock.

Eleri stepped forward hesitantly, saying, "Mrs. Weasley, hi… I – I was so sorry to hear about Mr. Weasley. I …" She trailed off. She had no idea what else to say.

But Molly stood then and came around the table to envelope Eleri in an unexpectedly warm hug.

"I'm very glad you're here, dear," she said, and the sincerity in her voice made Eleri swallow nervously. She'd have been glad of it too if she didn't know that neither she nor Charlie would have anything to say to each other. She merely hugged her back, saying nothing. But when they separated, Molly caught the look on the younger woman's face and said softly, "Why don't you join me for tea? We haven't seen each other in a while."

Eleri nodded and sat down slowly. Neither of them spoke again until Molly had settled cups in front of each of them, and then Molly said, "It really was so nice of you to come. How did you find out about – about Arthur?"

Eleri could see how Molly swallowed hard before she said her husband's name, and her heart ached for this woman who had been nothing but kind to her in all the time she'd known her. She held her gaze as she said, "I got a letter from Charlie a couple of days ago. He didn't ask me to come, but … I sort of … read between the lines, I guess. I _thought _he wanted me here. Now, though…" but she trailed off, unwilling to burden Molly any more than she obviously already was.

But Molly was never too busy to worry about her children, and she fixed Eleri with her no-nonsense gaze.

"He's acting like he doesn't care if you're here or not."

It was hardly a question, and Eleri found herself nodding even as she realized that she was doing exactly what she'd resolved not to. But Molly hardly noticed as she sighed and said, "Please don't take that to heart. You know Charlie as well as I do. He never admits when he needs help, but it's obvious when he does. And right now… well. I'm glad you're here."

Eleri felt her confidence returning. In spite of the disastrously silent 15 minutes she'd just spent in Charlie's room, she somehow knew Molly was right – after all, as much as they might deny it, if _anyone _knew these Weasley boys inside and out, it was their mother. And Eleri also knew now that the next conversation she would have with Charlie was bound to be different from the last one.

She smiled at Molly and said honestly, "So am I."

She would talk to Charlie tomorrow. This visit was not going to be for nothing.

__

_**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. I do have the other project going on now with Dodger Gilmore, Near Fatal Accidents. But this certainly sets up a lot for the future, so hopefully the next chapter will come much faster. Please let me know what you thought and REVIEW!!**_

_**And thanks be to Lisa for providing a sketchbook, a word, and a nightly dose of sanity.**_


	58. Tough Conversations

When Charlie awoke the next morning, he hardly believed he'd slept at all. His head felt heavy, and he couldn't stop yawning. There was only one solution on a morning like this. He showered quickly and grabbed a slice of toast on his way out the door.

It wasn't long before he was at Hogwarts. Hagrid wasn't in his hut, so Charlie made his way over to the Care of Magical Creatures lesson, where he found his friend feeding the Blast Ended Skrewts. A smile spread across Hagrid's face when he caught sight of Charlie, and he motioned for him to help.

Charlie pulled on the heavy fire-resistant gloves before joining Hagrid on the other side of the fence. For a few minutes, they worked in a companionable silence, and then Hagrid observed, "I haven' seen yeh in a while." He kept his voice soft so as not to startle the Skrewts, and Charlie was suddenly somewhat relieved that he'd chosen to come to work today. Somehow, talking softly with Hagrid hardly ever felt like talking at all. He knew his brothers would be shocked if they knew how much he'd told Hagrid over the past couple of years. They could never understand, though, how easy it truly was. Charlie hardly understood why this was the case, himself.

But he was hardly surprised by the words that suddenly began pouring from him as he started explaining his sudden appearance.

"I don't even know what to say to her," he confessed. He kept his eyes firmly on the Skrewt before him, glad of the task because it gave him the most legitimate excuse possible not to look at Hagrid while he was talking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hagrid nod slowly before saying, "Well, she came, I'm sure, because she cares about yeh. She'd mos' likely let yeh jus' talk about anythin' yeh wanted, don't yeh think?"

Charlie paused before nodding grudgingly.

"I know you're right," he conceded. "It's just – I left her in Romania a couple of years ago. It's been a couple of _years_. Maybe – maybe she just came out of pity."

He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but he didn't know why he bothered. Hagrid heard it, obviously, but just as obviously, he ignored it as he said, "_No _one gets a portkey from Romania to England out of pity, Charlie, and yeh _know_ it. It's yer turn. She's done her part. Now yeh have to go to her."

Charlie thought about this for a while longer as they finished up, and once they were back on the other side of the fence and pulling off their gloves, he said, "Thanks, Hagrid. I think – I think I'm going to go now. I'll be back later, though, to help out some more. I'm sorry I've been so inconsistent lately."

But Hagrid shrugged the apologies off his tremendous shoulders and merely smiled sympathetically, placing a hand on Charlie's broad shoulder that almost sent him into the ground.

"Don' yeh worry," he said, his voice even more gentle than when he'd been handling deadly creatures. "I loved yer dad, too. Yeh take as long as yeh need."

Charlie looked down and nodded quickly, mumbling another gruff thank you before hastening off toward the gates and Eleri.

* * *

Ginny raced into the showers at the end of the match, hoping to get to Grimmauld Place as quickly as possible. It had been a long week, and she knew the thought of talking to Bill had only made it longer. This wasn't a conversation she relished having – it wasn't a conversation she'd even _planned _on having for a long time, actually – but she'd received an owl from Harry during the week that let her know, in no uncertain terms, that she'd need to do this as soon as possible. He didn't say much more than that, and she didn't ask. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She did know, however, that ignorance was probably not the best way to prepare for such a conversation. She shook her head under the towel that she'd draped over it as she dressed quickly. She'd find out soon enough. Besides – this was _Bill_. He was her older brother, her constant protector. She was sure she didn't have anything to worry about.

The rest of Ginny's teammates were straggling in as she hoisted her duffel bag onto her shoulder and waved a quick goodbye. Before any of them could send her one more sympathetic look, she was gone, and moments later, she was letting herself into Grimmauld Place, hoping Harry would be waiting for her.

She needn't have worried. He was sitting in the kitchen, the Daily Prophet unfolded before him, when she walked in, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. She rushed to him and they held each other tightly, breaking apart only for a kiss, and then she settled herself on his lap, relishing in the way her body just melted into his.

"So how was your day?" Harry asked as he kept his arms firmly around her, and she sighed contentedly.

"It was good," she murmured, turning slightly to kiss his jaw. He shivered slightly, and she smiled. It was always so good to see each other again after some time apart. One little touch was sometimes all it took. "How was your day?" she asked, even as she kissed him again.

He tried to keep his breathing even, but Ginny knew her proximity was making it difficult, and her smile widened.

"It was fine," he managed to grind out, and then he gave up. Bending his face to hers, he kissed her deeply. They'd almost managed to forget where they were when they heard footsteps, and then Hermione's voice squeaked, "Oh! Sorry!"

They broke apart quickly, but she'd already turned and fled. Ginny started to laugh, but Harry sighed dejectedly, which only made her laugh harder.

"There will be plenty of time later," she consoled him. "I ought to go to Shell Cottage now anyway before it gets too late. The last time Bill owled, he said Fleur was going to bed earlier and earlier these days."

And now Harry's smile faded completely, and the nervousness that Ginny had managed to keep at bay came rushing back in full force.

"What should I know," she said flatly, and all of the lust went out of his eyes as he almost whispered, "Just – when I spoke to your mum, she said to tread carefully with Bill on this. She really didn't know how he would react to the idea. She just wants you to be careful."

He thought of telling her Ron's idea of having her mum walk her down the aisle, but he saw from the set of her jaw that she was determined to ask Bill, so he decided to wait. There would be time to mention it later if necessary.

"I'll be back later," Ginny said, and she kissed Harry firmly before standing up. For a moment, though, she simply stood there, and Harry knew she wasn't nearly as confident about this as she wanted to look, but he merely said, "Good luck," quietly, and she nodded before hurrying from the room.

He hoped she had no reason to worry. He worried because he knew she did.

* * *

Charlie had just left the grounds when he realized that he didn't know where to go to find Eleri. He didn't know if it were just wishful thinking to hope that she'd have tried to stay in the same place where they'd lived in the short time they'd stayed in England together, but he couldn't think of anything else. He turned on the spot and soon found himself in Ottery St. Catchpole, just a mile from the Burrow.

He stood before the small building where he'd once hoped he and Eleri would start a life together, and he swallowed hard. His mouth was suddenly very, very dry, and he hoped he'd be able to say all the things he now knew he couldn't wait another moment to say.

Taking a deep breath, he walked into the building and knocked softly on the door of the flat where they'd lived. Somehow, Eleri didn't look surprised when she opened it, and she stepped back silently to let him in.

Once he was sitting on the couch, though, Charlie felt tongue tied again, and Eleri sat down slowly on the cushion next to him. Her mind was racing, but she also felt – strangely – very calm. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to wait. Charlie needed time. He always did. But he was here, and she knew this meant he was ready.

And then, he spoke. "I'm very sorry for the way I behaved yesterday," he said, and his voice was so quiet that she wasn't sure she'd even heard him properly. Hardly realizing what she was doing, she shifted closer to him on the couch. She still said nothing, and he took a deep breath and continued.

"It's been – it's been hard these past few months," he said haltingly. Saying these things to Hagrid was one thing. Saying them to Eleri, who had once known him better than almost anyone, was something else entirely. He shook his head slightly. She was here. He owed it to her to finish.

"My dad got the diagnosis not that long ago. But the disease progressed. Quickly. Towards the – the end – well, sometimes he forgot who some of us were. He even – he called George Fred a few times."

Eleri could hear the strain in his voice, but she kept her hands firmly in her lap. As much as she longed to touch him right now, she knew it was the last thing he wanted. And after a moment, he continued.

"He and Mum called each of us to the Burrow individually so he could say his goodbyes. He never – he never got to say goodbye to Bill, though. I was there – he'd told me to come over – and then he was about to say something when he just – passed out, I guess. He never – he never finished what he was going to say. _I_ never got to say…"

He couldn't say another word. It was the first time he'd told this to anyone, and it was like reliving all of it again. He buried his face in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. No. He could control himself. He didn't have to do this. He didn't.

But Eleri's own eyes were full of tears, and she couldn't keep her hands to herself for a moment longer. Slowly, cautiously, knowing he was as apt to push her away as accept her embrace, she put an arm gingerly across Charlie's shoulders.

For a moment, he stiffened, and then, he did exactly what he'd been hoping he wouldn't. He could feel the sobs bunching in his chest, and he tried taking a deep breath, hoping it would calm him down, but it caught in his throat, and then the tears began to pool in his hands.

Eleri began to rub his back in small, soothing circles, his harsh breathing seeming even louder in the quiet flat.

"I'm so sorry," she said shakily."I wish you'd owled sooner. You know that in spite of everything – you know I still care, Charlie. I care a lot. I would have come right away. I could have been here; I could have helped."

Charlie couldn't answer. He couldn't move his hands either, but he wished he could tell her that she was helping – that having her here right now helped more than anything else had even come close. But he kept his face in his hands and hoped she knew. He thought maybe she did.

* * *

Fleur answered the door when Ginny arrived at Shell Cottage, and Ginny couldn't help but smile as she examined her sister-in-law's ever-expanding waistline.

"Not long now, huh?" she asked as she stepped inside and managed to give Fleur an awkward hug.

Fleur grimaced and touched her hand to where the baby was now managing to punch and kick her simultaneously.

"Eet ees too long. 'Owever much longer eet ees ees too long."

Ginny laughed. "Uncomfortable?" she asked, and Fleur sighed and nodded, now moving her hands to her back and trying to massage it.

"Yes!" she said enthusiastically. "I steel 'ave anuzzer sree weeks to go. I do not know 'ow your muzzer deed zis six times."

Ginny shook her head. "Don't ask me. I'm the only one with no memory of any of her pregnancies. Probably lucky for her, too, since I'm the only one of her children who's going to have to go through all of that to give her grandchildren."

Fleur laughed at this and then collapsed on the couch and picked up a book.

"I am assuming you are 'ere to see Beel. 'E ees een what weel be ze nursery. Zhust go down ze 'allway. You'll know you're zere when you 'ear ze cursing and clanking. For some reason, 'e seems to sink 'e 'as to build zese sings ze muggle way."

Fleur rolled her eyes, and Ginny tried to smile, but her throat was suddenly tight. He was trying to hold onto their father was what he was doing. Ginny might not have been around for all of the pregnancies, but she'd certainly heard all of the stories of her father's escapades with each of their nurseries, much to their mother's chagrin. But she said none of this to Fleur as she made her way in the direction she'd indicated.

Fleur had been right. Bill was easy to find, and as Ginny walked in the door, she found herself suppressing a smile as she discovered her oldest brother covered in paint and sawdust, a half-finished crib on its side.

"Need some help?" she asked lightly, and he looked up, a disgruntled expression on his face that quickly turned to a smile as he saw his baby sister.

"Yes," he said promptly, reaching towards her. "Give me a hand."

Ginny complied and pulled Bill to his feet. He reached for her, but she looked at him skeptically and pulled out her wand.

"Mind if I …?" she asked, gesturing towards his clothes with an expression of barely concealed disgust, and he laughed.

"Go for it."

"Scourgify," she muttered, and within moments, Bill was cleared of all baby furniture-related dust. Sticking her wand back into her pocket, she opened her own arms, and Bill grabbed her up in a hug, swinging her around and just barely missing the crib.

Ginny gasped, but Bill rolled his eyes as he gestured toward it.

"Honestly?" he grumbled. "Your kicking it might actually help matters."

She tried not to laugh, and Bill suddenly smiled.

"So?" he asked, sitting down on a small bench – the one finished piece of furniture in the room – and motioning for her to join him. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Ginny's smile vanished, and she rubbed her suddenly damp palms over her knees. Avoiding Bill's eyes, she said quietly, "I have a – question to ask you."

Bill studied her. This was not the Ginny he knew.

"What is it?" he asked, and the concern was evident in his voice. She looked up at last.

"I was wondering – well – would you want to – to walk me down the aisle? At – at the wedding?"

Bill's face seemed to have turned to stone. He was still staring at her, but his expression hadn't changed at all. For a moment, Ginny simply stared back, wondering what he was thinking, but when more time passed and he still hadn't spoken, she said, "Bill? Would you?"

He shook himself then, and the mask finally slipped – to be replaced by – anger? Ginny jerked back in surprise as he said, his voice cold, "No, Ginny. I don't think that would be a very good idea. Now if you'll excuse me…"

And without even finished the sentence, he walked out of the room, leaving her sitting there, her mouth half open, and her eyes filling with tears. He'd sounded his angry, but his eyes… What had she done?

_**A/N: Sorry this took so long (yet again!), but this story is finally winding its way to a close. Expect somewhere in the range of 4 to 5 more chapters. But not to worry – the wedding will be one of them. Please read and REVIEW! We're almost there!**_


	59. Bump in the Road

_A/N 1: Katy, this chapter's got you written all over it. _

Bill stormed outside. He was shaking with fury and something else he couldn't quite define – and he didn't want to. He glanced back in the window, wondering what Ginny would tell Fleur but then deciding that whatever it was – he didn't care. He didn't want to think about Ginny right now. He wasn't used to being so angry with her, but right now he knew he just needed to get away.

He spun on the spot, hardly aware that he was picturing the most familiar place in the world until he found himself face to face with his George as he stood in the garden, and he jerked back in surprise.

"Bill!" he exclaimed, and then he took in the look on his face, and his own expression shifted. Bill wasn't supposed to look like this. It never meant anything good.

Glancing toward the Burrow and hoping that their mum wasn't nearby enough to see Bill's face, herself, he asked as casually as he could manage, "Feel like going to my flat?"

Bill didn't know why he was agreeing. He didn't even open his mouth, just clamped his hand on George's shoulder as he kept his mouth tightly shut but nodded jerkily.

Moments later, they were in Diagon Alley, and George silently led Bill through the shop and up the stairs to the flat he now inhabited only occasionally. Bill shoved the clothing off the couch and collapsed onto it as George rummaged in the kitchen for two glasses and the bottle of firewhiskey he'd saved for just such an emergency.

Bill blindly grabbed at the glass George handed him and tilted it back as he let the liquid run down his throat, his eyes closed. Once he'd finished and poured himself another, he finally looked at his younger brother.

George couldn't hide the worry in his eyes, but he forced a small smile and asked, "So are you planning on telling me what's brought you to the point where you have no trouble drinking me out of house and home?"

Bill stared at him for a moment, and George really thought he was going to answer, but he drained his glass before finally saying, "Ginny – Ginny came over tonight."

He didn't say anything more for a while, but George knew better than to ask any other questions. He also knew better than to look directly at Bill while he was trying to get him to talk, so he fiddled with his glass as he stared at the coffee table and waited.

"She asked me to walk her down the aisle."

Bill said the words in a rush, and when George looked up quickly, it was Bill's turn to stare at the table. But after a moment, he looked up again, and George swallowed hard. Bill wasn't supposed to look like _this_ either.

"I just got so – so _angry_," he said, and his voice dripped with shame. He hung his head, afraid of the judgment he was sure he'd see in his younger brother's eyes. George sighed, though, and said, "I get it."

They were the only words that could have gotten Bill to look up, and when he did, George was watching him, his own eyes miserable, but he cleared his throat and said, "I do. When Fred – when it was just me at first, everyone wanted me to be the _old_ me, you know?"

Bill nodded slowly. He did know. It was true. It was the one thing they'd all devoutly wished, that George would go back to being his old self. George nodded too as he continued.

"I understood. I wanted more than anything to be able to do that, to be able to make things easier for everybody. But it would've made it harder for _me, _you know? I had to do what I could to make things easier for _me_."

Bill stared at him, and he finally whispered, "That's it." His voice was hoarser than usual, but George simply nodded, pretending not to notice. "When Ginny asked, it was like when Mum went to Andromeda's that time, and Charlie and I got into that fight. Why did _I _have to be the one to know where she went? Why do _I _have to be the one to walk her down the aisle? I can't know everything, and I can't _do _everything. I'm not – I'm not _Dad_."

His voice broke, and he quickly picked up the bottle again, hoping that George wouldn't notice how much his hands were trembling. But George took the bottle out of his hands, saying quietly, "Let me help you. Fred will haunt both of us if we spill a drop of this."

Bill's mouth turned up in a smile for half a second before his lips started trembling too. George concentrated wholly on pouring another glass so he wouldn't have to look at him, and then Bill said, his voice shaking horribly, "Sometimes – sometimes I don't know how I'm going to do this with my own kid."

George's hand jerked in surprise, and the firewhiskey spilled. He put the bottle down quickly as he grabbed his wand to clean up the mess. It was a good excuse for him not to look at Bill right now, and they both needed that because Bill had put down his own glass and covered his face with his hands.

Once the spill was thoroughly taken care of, George sat back and carefully considered his next words before saying, "You're going to be a wonderful father, Bill. We – well, we had a good role model."

Bill sighed and removed his hands, looking straight ahead as he said softly, "But – but that's the problem. We _had _a good role model. What happens – what happens if I have questions? Who will I ask?"

George stared at his brother's profile for a long moment before swallowing hard and choking out one word: "Mum."

Bill glanced at him quickly before looking away just as quickly – but he nodded.

"I know," he mumbled. "Maybe – maybe I'll go back there now. Talk to her," he added, and he wasn't surprised when George immediately agreed.

As he got to his feet, George did the same, and they looked at each other for a moment before Bill said, "Thanks" and awkwardly patted his younger brother on the shoulder before turning and leaving as swiftly as possible.

* * *

Molly was washing up her dishes from dinner when Bill walked up to the door, and he had to blink quickly to clear his vision as he watched her solitary movements. He was never going to get used to seeing her alone. It just looked so _wrong, _so incomplete. Sighing, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

"Hi Mum."

She turned around and somehow didn't look at all surprised to see her oldest standing there just looking so – lost.

"Come have a seat," she said quietly, and he complied. Neither of them said another word until Molly was sitting across from him. She wrinkled her nose and said, "Firewhiskey?"

When he glanced down and nodded, she picked up her wand and flicked it toward the stove. Instantly, coffee began to brew in the pot, and Bill was silently grateful that she didn't say anymore.

"So what brings you here now?" she asked. Her voice was innocent – too innocent. Bill looked at her suspiciously, and – the pieces fell into place. She already knew what happened, what had sent him into such a tailspin.

"Ginny asked," he said, and his voice was brittle. "You knew she was going to do this tonight? Is that why you had George wait for me out there?"

Molly flushed slightly, but she shook her head. "I didn't know for sure she would do this tonight. As far as George goes – well, I guess that was just a lucky coincidence?"

The question in her voice was clear, and Bill found the anger deserting him once again. He deflated, but he nodded slightly.

"Yeah," he said, his voice suddenly strained. "I guess it _was_ lucky."

Molly studied him before saying gently, "Fleur flooed me. Well, Ginny did from your house. She told me what happened. She seemed pretty upset."

Her censure was quiet but clear, and Bill flushed. He stared at the worn table before finally saying desperately, "I _want_ to do this, Mum. I _want_ Ginny and Harry's wedding to be everything theywant it to be. But what if I _can't_?"

Molly sighed and put her hand over Bill's. He stared at it as she said, "What do you mean, what if you can't?"

He couldn't look at her. "If I do this – what happens if – if my feet won't move? Or – or if I can't keep it together? I'd be filling in—filling in for – " His voice cracked, and suddenly he was crying. He'd have given anything if he weren't, but he as much as he wanted to, he couldn't seem to stop.

Molly didn't say a word, just got out of her seat and came around the table, sitting beside Bill and pulling him into her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder as she rubbed his back, not saying a word as she waited for him to calm down.

Finally, he managed to get his breathing under control, and he pulled away, his face even redder than before.

"Sorry," he mumbled, but his mother took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her.

"Don't apologize for missing your father," she said firmly, and he stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. Once she was certain that he understood, she released him, and then she said much more gently, "You know you need to talk to Ginny, I hope."

He sighed as he nodded again. "I know," he said. "I'll go do that now."

He stood up reluctantly, and Molly knew the problem.

"If it's going to be too hard for you…" she started, and he turned to her so quickly that she knew he'd been hoping for this, for her to have some sort of solution. She said slowly, "I can walk her down the aisle. I know she'd prefer you, but maybe I'd do in a pinch."

Bill stared at her before whispering, "Thanks, Mum. I'll go talk to her now. I'm sure – I'm sure we'll be able to figure something out."

Molly nodded. "She said she was going back to Grimmauld Place. You might just want to go straight there."

Bill nodded and then pushed back his seat, standing up and looking down at his mother. Even with his height and his long hair and his earring and his scars… he was still her little boy, her firstborn. She said softly, "I know you'll do the right thing."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but he croaked, "Thanks."

Before she could say another word, he fled.

* * *

Bill stood on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. He'd already performed the cooling spell on his face and was now alternately raising his hand to knock and then dropping it again. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was being ridiculous. This was his little sister. He had nothing to be afraid of. Before he could stop himself again, he was knocking more sharply than he'd intended.

The door opened, and Bill somehow wasn't surprised to suddenly be facing Harry, who looked back at him with a combination of consternation and understanding.

"Hullo, Bill," he said quietly, stepping back and allowing him in. Once he'd closed the door behind them, he turned toward the kitchen and motioned for Bill to follow. After a few steps, though, he seemed to realize fairly quickly that he was walking alone. Turning back, he looked at Bill, who was still standing in the same spot. Harry swallowed uncomfortably.

"Bill?" he asked, and as he watched, Bill seemed to shake himself out of his daze and tried to force a smile.

"Sorry, Harry," he said, and he followed him down the hallway. But when they entered the kitchen, he stopped short. Ginny's back was to him, and she had a bowl in her arm. She mixed whatever was in there with short, jerky movements. She turned when she heard them, and her arm stilled when Bill's eyes caught hers. Slowly, quietly, Harry backed out of the room and left them alone.

They stood, facing each other, and judging from the blazing look in his sister's eyes, Bill knew he would have to be the first to speak.

"I'm – I'm sorry about before, Gin," he said softly. "You kind of took me by surprise."

Ginny stared at him and then snapped, "Is that why you ran away?"

He winced, but she continued to glower at him. Bill sighed. There was more than anger in Ginny's eyes right now, and he spoke to the pain that he knew he'd inadvertently caused her.

"It's not – it's not you, Ginny. You have to know that."

But she stayed silent, and her eyes stayed hard, and Bill knew she needed more. He sighed. He didn't want to do this again, but it didn't seem like Ginny was leaving him much of a choice.

He gestured to the chairs at the table, and she yanked hers out from the table as she threw herself into it. He lowered himself into his own a lot more gently.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, and then Bill said quietly, "I'm sorry I ran out before. I was just – I didn't expect you to ask me is all…"

He trailed off, hoping she wouldn't ask the inevitable next question.

"Well, I did ask," she retorted. "And you still haven't given me an answer."

Bill let out a deep breath. "Ginny – I just – I don't think it's a good idea."

Her eyes widened, and he knew that she didn't understand. Before he could even try to explain, she stalked back to the counter and began creaming what he hoped was butter, the spoon clanging against the side of the bowl.

He watched her for a moment before he said, his voice low, "I'm not Dad."

Her arm stilled, but she kept her back to him, and he knew he had to continue.

"I love you, Ginny. I do. And I want your wedding to be as perfect as it can be. But if I walk you down the aisle – it won't be. I won't be – I just…" He trailed off. His throat was closing again, and he was horrified by it. He swallowed hard. It was time to go. He had to go.

But just then, Ginny glanced over her shoulder. From the expression on her face, he could only imagine how his own must look, and he flushed scarlet as he ducked his head. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was never supposed to see him like this.

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were his labored breathing and the increasing fervor of Ginny's mixing efforts. When he finally trusted himself enough to speak, he heaved himself out of his chair and walked over to her. She still didn't turn, so he dropped a kiss on top of her head as he whispered, "I'm sorry. It's not that I don't want to. I just …"

He didn't finish. He couldn't. Without another word, he turned and let himself out.

A few minutes later, Harry pushed open the door gingerly to find Ginny sitting at the table, the mixing bowl shoved to the side and her head pillowed on her arms. She looked up at him when he entered, and the look of abject misery on her face brought him to her side instantly. He put his arms around her, and she sighed shakily.

"It's not going to be Bill," she said, her voice wobbling. "I don't know – I don't know what I did to him, but he _can't_ do it. I don't know now…"

Harry paused and then said cautiously, "Well … what about your mum? I bet – I bet she'd do it?"

Ginny pulled away slowly and looked at him before a small smile broke out on her face.

"That's probably the best idea anyone's had all day."

Harry smiled back, wondering if he'd ever let on that it had actually been _Ron's _idea. Probably not, he decided as she leaned over to kiss him.

* * *

Fleur was sitting on the couch, her book open beside her when Bill finally returned. She wasn't reading, and Bill could see from the small lines around her mouth just how worried she'd been. He didn't even say a word. He just went to the couch and knelt at her feet, putting his head in her lap. She smoothed his hair silently, not saying a word as his shoulders started trembling or when she felt her legs growing damp. When he finally sat up, his eyes were red and pained, and he choked, "I do want to be a father, Fleur. I want to be a father like my own was to me. I just – I don't want to _be him_. I _can't_."

Fleur wanted nothing more than to be able to fix everything for him, but that was impossible. She simply whispered, "I know." He got to his feet then and pulled her to her own, drawing her close for a kiss.

"I'm sorry I disappeared before," he murmured into her hair, but she shook her head against him.

"Stop apologizing. You were upset. Everysing ees ok now?"

He let go of her and sighed, running his hand through his hair and shrugging.

"I guess it's as ok as it's going to get. I spoke to Mum, and I spoke to Ginny. I think – I hope she understands. I don't know. It's done now. Let's just go to bed, all right? I just want to go to bed."

Fleur nodded and, taking his hand, led him to the bedroom. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Fleur, however, stared at the ceiling, remembering her own wedding and the chaotic way it had ended. But here she was now, her husband asleep beside her, their baby safely inside her. Resting her hands on her stomach, she let out a small sigh. This was just a bump in the road, she was sure. Harry and Ginny's wedding would have its own sadness, but she knew she had to help try to make it as happy as possible.

_**A/N 2: This. Took. FOREVER. Bouquets of brownies to Lisa for her help with this.**_


	60. The Sun Rises

_Four Weeks Later_

Fleur tried to heave her bulk off the couch, but she couldn't seem to manage it on her own. She sighed. She was getting _so tired_ of asking Bill for help with the simplest things and couldn't wait to just _have _this _baby_ already. She was already a week late. Ginny and Harry's wedding was just five days away. It was _time_.

But, she thought as she settled back into the couch with a sigh, it obviously wasn't. If it were time, the baby would be here, and she'd be able to get up off the couch without having to call in reinforcements. She let herself close her eyes, knowing Bill would find her in due time. It wasn't like she was in a rush to get anywhere these days anyway. Bill was being adamant that she stay either at home or at the Burrow so it would be easiest for when they'd need to get to the hospital.

She sighed. She'd give _anything _if it were just time to get to the damn hospital already. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she felt a twinge. Pressing her hand to the small of her back, she rubbed it as hard as she could, but the pain only intensified. She shifted again and slowly became aware of the couch under her becoming wet. She gasped. It was time to call Bill.

* * *

Bill paced around the small hospital room, running his hands through his hair, while Fleur lay in the bed, alternately grimacing and rolling her eyes.

Finally, on his fourth trip past her bed, she said in exasperation, "Is it so much to ask zat we 'ave zis little time togezzer before your family descends? You know I love zem, but shouldn't zere be time when it is zhust us?"

He stopped short in his pacing and smiled at her sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're right. We should have this time to ourselves."

He moved to the bed to sit beside her, but as soon as he reached her side, her brow began to wrinkle in the telltale sign of a contraction, and it took all of Bill's considerable willpower and legendary Gryffindor bravery not to leap straight off the bed. Instead, he gritted his teeth and tried not bite through his lip this time as Fleur grasped his hand and her breath came in quick, short gasps.

When she finally let go, he tried to flex his fingers, but they wouldn't move. He didn't want to alarm her, so he mumbled something about going to the loo and slipped out of the room. The minute he was in the hallway, he slumped against the wall beside the door and carefully cradled his hurt hand in the other. A nurse walking by looked at him quizzically, and he tried to smile, but he knew it looked more like a sneer. Once she passed, he went back to examining his injured hand. He'd never really thought anything of Fleur being part Veela when he married her, but he'd never taken childbirth into account either. This – this was scary.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and shook his hand out gently. It seemed like it was only bruised, not broken, and he knew it was time to go back in. He opened the door slowly, only to find Fleur twisting restlessly on the bed, her hair in her face, her mouth twisted in pain. Swallowing hard, he backed out again, silently. Without stopping to think of what his wife's reaction would be, he turned and stumbled blindly down the hall, almost sobbing with relief when he found the bank of fireplaces. Dropping a knut in the basket, he grasped the handful of the powder that slid down the chute and tossed it into the flames, dropping to his knees and sticking his head in almost simultaneously.

"Charlie!" he called desperately. His eyes scanned the flat where he quickly noticed Eleri's feet, and then her face hovered before him, concern in her eyes.

"Is everything all right, Bill?" she asked, but he shook his head impatiently.

"Is Charlie there?" he asked, and Eleri took one look at his face before turning and shouting, "CHARLIE! IT'S BILL!"

Moments later, Eleri moved away, and Charlie's face appeared, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Bill, what is it?" he asked hurriedly, and Bill suddenly found himself breathing slightly more easily.

"It's Fleur," he said. "We're in St. Mungo's. She's in labor. I don't know – I need – will you just come here already?!"

Charlie's expression changed from worry to surprise to mild amusement.

"Stay put," he said, trying to be as comforting as he could. "I'll be right there. D'you want me to have Eleri tell the others?"

Bill nodded. "Just – just get here!" he almost pleaded before jerking himself out of the flames as they started to turn warm.

As he walked toward the waiting room, he tried to take deep breaths. Charlie was on his way. Fleur didn't even need to know. He could just sit in the waiting room.

Charlie was leaning against the wall by the time Bill got there, and he grasped his older brother's shoulder, smiling.

"Congratulations!" he said. "You're going to be a father tonight!"

But Bill looked at him despairingly and held up his hand that was now swollen and turning black and blue.

"Look what she did to me!" he hissed, and Charlie's eyes widened as he let out a snort.

"Your beautiful wife did _that_?" he asked, and the skepticism in his voice was clear. Bill glared at him.

"She's part _Veela_, Charlie! Don't you remember what happened at the Quidditch World Cup? When they get angry…" he shuddered, and Charlie's lips quirked, but he shook his head.

"Bill, you know it won't get _that_ bad. Fleur's only _part _Veela."

Bill continued to flex his fingers meaningfully, but a quick glance at his hand made him see the silliness of his behavior, and he finally sighed and said, "I know. It's not – it's not even just this. Charlie – I'm going to be a _father_. Like… _tonight_."

Charlie nodded slowly and slung an arm around Bill's shoulders as he led him to a nearby chair.

"Come on, mate. Have a seat. Everything's going to be fine," he said as soothingly as he could manage. He really hoped someone else would get here soon – preferably their mother or their sister. They were the ones who knew how to best handle Bill when he got like this. Which begged the question… "Why did you floo me? Why didn't you floo Mum or Ginny?"

Bill glanced up at him but looked back down at his hand just as quickly.

"I wanted you," he mumbled, his voice low. Charlie studied him for a moment before realizing he wasn't going to be getting any more of an answer though there clearly was one. He sighed. He hoped Eleri would be here soon. He hoped _anyone _would.

* * *

His prayers were answered faster than he could have expected. He had just sat down beside Bill when Molly, Percy and George came rushing through the swinging door, breathless. In an instant, they were surrounded as their mother and younger brothers peppered them with a seemingly unending list of questions. Bill just stared at them, his expression stunned, before realizing that he'd done exactly what Fleur had asked him not to. His family was descending on St. Mungo's – and she had no idea.

"I have to go back – I have to go back to Fleur's room," he muttered distractedly as he got to his feet. He hardly looked at any of them as he made his way to the door, but before he'd made it more than three steps, he felt a hand on his arm, and his feet slowed to a reluctant stop as he turned to look at his mother.

"Are you all right?" she asked bluntly. "You should be happy tonight, Bill, but you look more frazzled than I ever looked in childbirth, and I pushed out twins."

He stared at her for a moment, his face turning slightly green, and then he shook his head.

"I'm fine. I have to get back. I've been gone too long."

"Well," she asked practically, "do you want me to come along? Maybe I could help Fleur."

But Bill shook his head vehemently. "No, Mum, you can't. She made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone for a while, so we could have this time together. If she finds out that I flooed Charlie…"

A strange expression flitted across Molly's face, but she took one look at her son and knew this was _not _the time to nitpick over who he chose to contact first. There would be plenty of time for _that _later.

She watched him go, and she couldn't help but think of Arthur all those years ago. She shrugged. She should've known Bill would be one of _those _expectant fathers. It seemed to run in the family.

* * *

By the time another hour had passed, the rest of the family had assembled in the waiting room, and when Bill whispered to Fleur that maybe it was time to tell his family, that the healer had said she was so very close, she'd nodded wearily. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, and he moved it aside, using a damp washcloth to cool her off. She sighed with relief and said, "Go quickly, Bill. I do not sink – zere ees not much time."

He nodded and made a hasty exit before another contraction could claim her – and him, as well. The healers in the hallway smiled at him sympathetically as he made his way to where his family was quieter than he'd ever imagined they could be. They looked up anxiously as he walked in, and he said stiffly, "I'm coming to let you know that Fleur is having the baby. You might want to think about coming to the hospital now."

Ron snorted, and Hermione shoved him. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Charlie grinned at Bill.

"So we can start sounding like ourselves, in other words?"

Bill nodded, a small smile creasing his face. "Yeah, go right ahead."

Molly sighed and asked, "Would you like me to go to her with you _now?_" and Bill nodded so quickly that it was George's turn to snort. They ignored him as they left the waiting room. But when they got to Fleur's room and pushed open the door, all of the blood drained from Bill's face. Too many healers – there were too many healers surrounding her bed, and he couldn't see her at all. He tried to force his way into the room, but one of them noticed him and, putting her hand firmly on his chest, pushed him right back out.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, seeing the panic in his eyes. "She started to push, and we realized that the baby was breech. I don't know how we didn't see this earlier, but some of our instruments don't always work the way they should on your wife. You'll need to wait out in the waiting room." She noticed Molly for the first time and said, "It's good that your mother's here" before turning and walking back into the room, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Bill's mouth opened and closed, but no words would come out. Molly took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she put a hand under Bill's elbow and tugged him toward the waiting room.

"She'll be all right," she said, but she knew her voice lacked the conviction Bill so sorely needed right now. She knew it when she felt his arm start trembling ever so slightly, so she shut her mouth tightly. Words couldn't help now anyway.

When they got back to the room, every head came up, but one look at Bill's face silenced the now-rowdy group. He ignored all of them, though, and he stumbled toward the chair in the far corner where he collapsed and hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He heard the whispering, but he hardly cared about what any of them had to say. Nothing anyone could say right now would make this better. Nothing.

But suddenly – arms were going around him, and there was the familiar scent of lavender, sage, and chamomile. Ginny – Ginny whom he'd hurt so terribly just a few weeks ago was holding him tightly, and he found himself clinging to her as he buried his face in her hair. She said nothing, just sat there until his breathing eased. Then she let go, and when she pulled away, she was smiling at him crookedly.

"She's going to be fine," she whispered, "and you're going to be a _father_," and her voice held all of the confidence he needed to hear, and he found himself smiling back.

"It's crazy," he said softly, and she nodded vehemently.

"It sure is."

For a moment, they stared at each other, and then Bill started to say, "I really am sor—," but Ginny cut him off with a shake of her head.

"Don't worry about it," she said gently. "It's all right. I understand. I do," she added when he looked at her doubtfully. Her smile widened. "Mum's going to walk with me. It'll be nice."

He nodded and sighed. Nice… sure. The ideal wedding? Not by a long shot.

But before he could follow that train of thought any further, the door swung open again, and a healer poked her head in saying, "Mr. Weasley?"

Bill leapt to his feet and rushed to her. "Is – is she?" he started to ask and then found that his mouth was too dry to even finish the question. But she smiled at him.

"She's just fine. If you'll come with me?"

He didn't have to be asked twice. And when they got to Fleur's room, he was just in time to see the healer hand a small wrapped bundle to his very sleepy wife. She looked up at Bill, tears trembling on her lashes but a wide smile on her face.

"We have a daughter," she said, her voice wavering. She pulled back the blanket, and Bill found himself blinking quickly as he looked into the most beautiful little face he'd ever seen.

"I sink," Fleur continued, "I sink she 'as your dad's chin."

Bill swallowed hard even as he nodded his agreement. He couldn't speak. At this moment, he could hardly even see, and he reached up quickly to swipe at his eyes. Fleur yawned widely then, and the healer came to take the baby from her arms.

"Does Dad want to hold his daughter?" she asked, and Bill's arm automatically curved as the baby was placed into it. He stared down at her before looking back up at Fleur in amazement.

"Look at what we did," he said, his voice choked but full of awe, and Fleur smiled.

"We sure did," she echoed. She yawned again. "We still need a name, you know." Bill sighed but nodded. They'd yet to agree on _one_. But before he could make what he was sure would be 960th suggestion, Fleur shook her head. "We can name her after they all leave. Go get your family in 'ere now before I fall asleep." She reached out her arms, and Bill carefully and reluctantly transferred the precious cargo back to her waiting mother.

* * *

He stood outside the swinging door of the waiting room for a moment, and then he pushed it open and walked inside. Once again, the room fell unnaturally silent as all eyes turned to him. He waited a moment for good measure before blurting, "It's a girl!"

Every corner of the room exploded in cheers and whoops and whistles. Bill hardly knew who he was hugging as his siblings swarmed him. Finally, the only person left was Molly, and she just looked at him before saying fiercely, "I'm so proud of _both_ of you," and he pulled her into the tightest hug he'd given to anyone yet.

When he pulled away, he said, "She's perfect. She's absolutely perfect."

"Who does she look like?" George called. "Fleur, I hope."

Bill resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his younger brother as Fleur's words came echoing back to him.

"She looks like Fleur," he conceded, but his throat tightened as he said, "but she has Dad's chin."

None of them could look at each other for a moment, and then Molly said with forced cheer, "Well, if she were going to get any of his traits, that's the best one, I'd say."

Bill let out a shaky breath, but he managed a smile and a nod as he said quickly, "Right. Now, Fleur thinks it would be best if everyone came now to see her and the baby because she needs to go to sleep. So you'll just have to try to pretend to not – be – so many of you."

No one said a word at first, and then Ron laughed weakly.

"I bet Hermione knows _some _sort of spell," he said and winced as she whacked him on the shoulder with the book she'd been reading.

It was exactly what everyone needed. Even Bill managed to smile as he turned to lead the way. It was time for his daughter to meet her family.

_**A/N1: Lighter for a change indeed! Please read and REVIEW! There's not much left!**_

_**A/N2: Lisa – you've given it windows. I hope the view is good.**_


	61. The WeasleyPotter Wedding

_**A/N1: At least you get my longest one yet after the long wait. This is the last chapter. There's just an epilogue to go. This might've taken so long because I'm in denial that this is ending…**_

When Eleri awoke on the morning of Harry and Ginny's wedding, she knew without even looking that Charlie was already awake. He wasn't looking at her, but when she glanced over at him, she wasn't surprised to find him lying on his back, his eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling. She raised herself up on her elbow and waited. Eventually, she knew, he'd talk. She was right.

"Mum's going to walk her down the aisle, you know." His tone was conversational, but Eleri knew with a sinking feeling that this could turn out to be anything but casual. She nodded slowly. She _had_ heard this. Lowering herself back onto her pillow, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and waited. She didn't have to wait long.

"She asked Bill, but he didn't want to. I hope he doesn't feel bad about this today…"

His voice trailed off, and suddenly, he turned to look at her. He didn't say another word, but Eleri tried to suppress a sigh as she said gently, "Maybe we should go to Shell Cottage before the wedding. I'm sure they could use a hand getting Victoire ready."

Charlie's relief was unmistakable, but he hid it as he quickly nodded and then leaned over to kiss her.

"Great idea," he mumbled in her ear before pushing himself out of bed. "I'll just take a quick shower, and then I'll be ready."

Eleri rolled her eyes.

"Well, considering this is your sister's wedding, maybe you should take a slightly longer shower?" she asked, and the corner of Charlie's lip turned up in a smirk.

"Don't need to," he said, and he ducked quickly into the bathroom before the pillow could hit him.

* * *

Fleur stood over the bassinet, hardly even aware that she was smiling until Bill's voice cut into her reverie.

"There's nothing like it, you know," he said, and his voice was very low. When Fleur looked up, though, he was smiling.

"Zere is nossing like what?" she asked, and he shook his head as he said, "Watching the two of you."

Now Fleur turned her radiant smile on him, and she moved into his arms as he pressed his lips to her hair. For a moment, they stood together, watching their sleeping daughter, until Bill cleared his throat.

"Do you – would you mind if I took her somewhere this morning before the wedding?"

Fleur tried to pull back, to look up at him, but he kept his arms tightly around her, and she suddenly knew where he wanted to go. She swallowed hard.

"Zat is fine," she said quietly. "Do – you want me to come, too? Maybe I could 'elp?"

But Bill shook his head. "Thank you," he said, and he coughed before he continued. "I just -- I think I need to do this one alone."

Neither of them said another word. Reaching over and gently lifting his daughter out of her crib, Bill grabbed a small blanket and tucked it around her as he held her tightly against him. With one last forced smile at Fleur, he hurried from the cottage to the disapparation point. She was still standing there, watching the spot where he'd gone, when Charlie and Eleri appeared in the same place.

Blinking quickly, she forced her own smile as she hurried to greet them. Eleri looked at her worriedly, though, and she strove to maintain the smile – before failing miserably and allowing her shoulders to slump in defeat.

"What's wrong?" Eleri asked in alarm. Fleur was never one to let her distress show quite this clearly, even in front of her closest friends, as Charlie and Eleri definitely were.

She sighed and shook her head. "Bill – 'e took Victoire with 'im zis morning. Zere was somewhere 'e needed to go." She tried not to look at Charlie, but her eyes flickered in his direction, and she saw from the way his shoulders now slumped that he understood what she wasn't saying.

He cleared his throat. "Would you – would you like me to go?" he asked gruffly, and she hesitated very briefly before nodding quickly. She hated to ask him to do this. She knew it would be hard for him. But she was too worried about Bill to refuse his brother's help right now.

Charlie turned to Eleri, kissing her quickly before disapparating in a hurry. If he were going to do this – he just wanted to get it over with.

* * *

Charlie popped into the graveyard and saw instantly that Bill was not where he'd expected to find him. Keeping his eyes firmly averted from the one place he'd very much rather not see, it wasn't too hard for him to find his older brother.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he made his way to the bench where Bill was now sitting, Victoire asleep in his arms, as tears rolled down his cheeks. When he heard footsteps, he turned away hastily, brushing his sleeve across his face.

Charlie didn't say a word, just sat down beside Bill and reached over to gently touch his sleeping niece. For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Bill said hoarsely, "What – what are you doing here?"

Charlie didn't answer for a little while, and then he said, "We came over to see if you two needed our help getting everybody ready for the wedding. Fleur –" He sighed. "She's worried about you, Bill. So I said I'd come here and see if you were ready to come home."

Bill turned his head slightly but still didn't look directly at Charlie as he asked, "She told you where I was?"

Now Charlie sighed and shook his head. "No. I – I guessed."

Bill swallowed hard and nodded. "I had to – I had to introduce her to Dad," he said, and his voice shook so badly that Charlie instinctively reached for the baby. Without another word, Bill handed her to his brother, and then he hunched over, his face in his hands, as his shoulders started trembling.

Charlie shifted Victoire to the crook of his left arm, and then he moved closer to Bill, putting an arm hesitantly around his shoulders. When he didn't throw him off, Charlie said, "Of course you did. Just – get it out now, ok? It's going to be hard enough for Ginny without Dad there, and we – we can't make it worse."

His own voice was strained, but Bill simply nodded and started taking deep breaths. After a few minutes, he sat up, directed his wand to his face, murmured a spell, and then turned to Charlie and stretched out his arms.

"Thanks," he murmured as he took his daughter back. He looked down at her and then back up at Charlie. "Let's go back and have this wedding."

* * *

When they returned to Shell Cottage, Fleur looked directly at Bill, her eyes searching his. He just looked at her, and even though his eyes were no longer red, she knew. She reached for his hand, and he squeezed hers tightly.

Turning to Eleri, Fleur said, "would you mind?" and when Eleri shook her head quickly, Fleur took Victoire from Bill and handed her off before silently leading Bill into their bedroom. Once the door was closed behind them, Fleur wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and said quietly, "Will you be all right today?"

Bill sighed, and his arms tightened around her shoulders. "Yes," he said, knowing full well that she could hear the strain in his voice. He swallowed hard and tried again. "I'll be fine," he promised.

Fleur pulled back and looked at him critically. "Are you sure?" she asked, and he nodded, and even though the smile he gave her didn't quite reach his eyes, she smiled back.

"Let's get ready zen," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "Your little sister is getting married."

* * *

Hermione knocked lightly on Ginny's door, not quite knowing what kind of response she was expecting. Molly was in a tizzy in the kitchen, and Hermione knew she'd done the right thing when she'd offered to go see if Ginny needed any help. The _last _thing her friend needed right now, Hermione knew, was any kind of commotion. The least she could do was try to prevent any of it from reaching her ears.

"Come in." The voice didn't sound like Ginny's at all, and Hermione turned the knob slowly, opening the door to reveal Ginny sitting on her bed, dressed in her gown but with her hair tumbling over her shoulders and her chin in her hands.

Hermione tried not to smile, but Ginny looked up and saw her lips twitching, and she looked back down at herself before looking up with a rueful smile of her own.

"Looks ridiculous, huh?" she asked with a sigh, gesturing to her dress, but Hermione shook her head, closing the door behind her and then walking over to sit beside her friend.

"Not at all," she said honestly. "It's just – well, sitting there like that, you looked an awful lot like you did the first time I met you. You know – when you were 10 and madly in love with the magical Harry Potter."

Ginny shook her head.

"You know, Hermione, sometimes I wonder how this ever happened. When I was 10 – well. I hardly believed he was real. And then Ron was friends with him, and he was staying in our house, and I could hardly open my mouth. And now here I am – _marrying _him? How did this _happen_?"

Hermione started to laugh. "I was there, Gin. I saw it happen. He loves you so much. Everything's going to be wonderful."

Ginny smiled at her. "Thanks."

Hermione smiled back and then clapped her hands together. "All right. If I'm your maid of honor, I think I'm supposed to act the part or something. I told your mum I'd come up here to see if you needed any help. What do you need me to do?"

Ginny looked at her pointedly. "The hair, Hermione. Have you not noticed the hair?" She picked up a lock and then let it fall again dejectedly. "I have no idea what to do with it."

Shaking her head, Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her up off the bed, directing her to stand before the mirror as she pulled out her wand.

Her eyes narrowed as she muttered, "Let's see what we can do…"

* * *

Harry knew he should shave. He really did. But every time he picked up the razor, his hand started trembling so badly that he had to put it down again. By the third time, he was about to give up, when a knock on the door made him jump.

"What is it?" he called, hoping his voice wasn't trembling as badly as his hands were.

"It's me," Ron's voice called back. "Are you almost done in there?"

Harry sighed and opened the door. Ron took one look at his friend's lathered face and wild eyes and tried very hard to swallow the laughter that was bubbling up inside of him.

"I know this might be a weird question, mate, but do you want me to…" he gestured to Harry's face, and Harry grabbed Ron's arm without waiting for him to say another word and dragged him into the bathroom.

"Yes," he begged, not caring about the obvious desperation in his voice. "Please."

Ron bit the inside of his cheek as he nodded and tried to look serious about it.

"Would you mind if I just used my wand?" he asked, and Harry shook his head immediately.

"Whatever you want," he said quickly, and Ron nodded.

A short time later, Harry was clean shaven and sitting on his bed, Ron sitting across from him on the one uncluttered chair in the room.

"So…" Ron said, looking around at the mess. "What else do you need to do to get ready? Just get dressed, right?"

Harry nodded, but he didn't look at Ron. He was staring at the pictures beside his bed, and if Ron hadn't known his friend any better, he would have sworn that Harry's eyes were brighter than they should be.

"Harry?" he asked, but when Harry didn't look up, Ron knew he was right. Hearing Hermione's voice in his head, he tried not to sigh as he stood and slowly approached his best friend.

"Are you all right?" Ron asked as he sat beside him, his eyes going to the pictures that Harry was still looking at. His own eyes suddenly burned when he saw his father waving up at him, while James and Lily whirled in each other's arms beside him.

Harry cleared his throat but didn't turn his head.

"I'll be all right," he said gruffly. Ron didn't answer, just put his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed tightly. For a few minutes, they sat there, and then Harry suddenly stood up. He still kept his face carefully turned away from Ron, but his voice sounded almost normal when he said, "We _both_ need to get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs in 10 minutes?"

Ron stared up at Harry for a moment before looking down again quickly as he got to his own feet.

"Yeah, sure," he said, hoping his own voice didn't betray him. But Harry didn't turn again, and Ron slipped out of the room with a sigh.

* * *

By the time the guests started to arrive, Molly had settled down from her earlier eruptions and was greeting everyone smilingly. Bill, Charlie, Percy and George were ushering people to their seats while Hermione and Ginny remained holed up in Ginny's room, and Harry and Ron hid out in the attic.

When Hermione finally emerged, Fleur was the first person she saw, and she sighed with relief.

"Fleur, have you seen Molly?" she asked. "It's about time to start, and Ginny wants her."

Fleur pointed to where her mother-in-law was trying to smile and nod politely at whatever Muriel was saying, and Hermione hurried off in that direction, knowing Molly would be more than ready and willing for any excuse to escape. She was right. Within moments, they were back in the house where Hermione gestured for her to go on up the stairs.

"I'll – I'll just wait down here," she said when Molly looked at her questioningly. "I think Ginny might want some time alone with just you."

Now Molly nodded, understanding in her eyes, and she turned and went to her daughter. She didn't bother knocking, just opened the door to find Ginny standing before the mirror. It only took her one look to know that Ginny wasn't seeing her reflection, though. She walked over to her without saying a word, and Ginny didn't speak either, just turned and fell into her mother's arms, her shoulders trembling.

"I want them here," she choked, and Molly nodded, her own throat tight.

"So do I," she whispered. "But I bet they're watching somehow."

"That's not good enough," Ginny sniffed.

"I know."

Molly patted her until she was calm enough to pull away and draw her hand across her eyes. When she turned back to the mirror, though, she sighed.

"Mum," she said despairingly, and Molly nodded, pulling out her wand and directing it at her daughter, but then she lowered it again. Ginny looked at her in confusion, but Molly smiled sadly.

"This spell's been getting a lot of use today," she said, and when Ginny's chin trembled, her mother nodded. "Percy needed it this morning," she said softly. "We all miss them today. But I have to believe that your father and your brother wouldn't miss this for the world. Come on, Gin. You knew them as well as I did. You _know_ I'm right."

Ginny swallowed hard, but she nodded. "I know," she said. Then she gestured again to her face. "But could you…?"

Molly smiled and, raising her wand again, murmured the spell. When Ginny was reassured that she looked back to normal, she turned to her mother.

"Well," she said, her voice suddenly strong again. "I guess it's time."

* * *

By the time Molly and Ginny got downstairs, Hermione was fidgeting anxiously at the table, but she smiled when saw them.

"Harry and Ron have already gone ahead," she informed them. "Is it time?"

Molly looked at Ginny, and Ginny smiled.

"Yes," she said firmly. "Let's get me married."

The three of them walked outside, and as Ginny took a deep breath, Hermione made her way down the aisle. A smile spread across her face as she saw Ron's mouth fall slightly open. If this were his reaction to a mere _bridesmaid's _dress – well, she could only imagine what he'd be like just a few months from now.

And then it was time for the bride. As she and Molly walked down the aisle side by side, Ginny couldn't take her eyes off Harry – and the feeling was clearly mutual. His eyes were glued to her as she walked down the aisle in her sleek white dress, her hair bouncing off her bare shoulders. A smile spread across his face, and she found herself smiling too.

As she and Molly came to a stop before the officiating wizard, he looked at them over his spectacles and asked, "And who gives this woman's hand in marriage today?"

Molly glanced at Ginny and cleared her throat before answering, "I do."

Ginny leaned over to kiss her mother, and then she and Harry were standing together, and nothing else mattered until he was kissing her and whispering, "When you kissed me on my 17th birthday, I saw this – your wedding. I couldn't imagine that I'd ever be lucky enough to be the groom. I am so lucky, Ginny We—_Potter_. I love you."

Ginny held him to her as tightly as she could manage. "I love you, too, Harry Potter. And I love being Ginny Potter."

They pulled back enough to smile at each other before turning to face the whoops and cheers of their guests.

* * *

The party was winding its way to an end, and Harry had his arms around his wife as he swept her into a dance when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning his head, his eyes widened when he saw George standing there, a crooked smile on his face.

"Mind if I cut in?" he asked, and Harry immediately let go of Ginny while simultaneously pushing her towards George.

"Thanks," George said, the amusement in his voice coming through loud and clear, and Ginny tried not to laugh as George whisked her away.

"Gin," he whispered. "I think your husband's scared of us."

Ginny stared at him, and George raised his eyebrows at her.

"Word "husband" sound weird?" he guessed, and she nodded vehemently.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "I hardly got used to fiancé. How the hell am I supposed to call _Harry _my _husband_?"

George shrugged. "Dunno. I bet you'll figure it out."

She scowled at him. "Some help you are. Thanks a lot."

George just smiled, and for a few minutes, neither of them spoke. The song was almost over when George whispered, "Fred – he would've been really happy about today. I just – I wanted to make sure you knew that."

Ginny's feet slowed so much that she almost came to a complete stop, but George deliberately kept her moving so no one would notice anything. For a moment, she just stared at him, but then she whispered, "Thanks, George. I – I really missed him today. Him _and _Dad. It's – it's not the way it should be without them, is it?"

He shook his head, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "It isn't," he said. He blinked hard, and Ginny took one look at him before pulling him close. He buried his face in her shoulder, and she rested her chin on his, waiting. Finally, he pulled back and tried to smile.

"I'm sorry for cutting in," he tried to joke. "It's just that Fred and I talked once about what it would be like if you married Harry, and one of the things we knew we'd have to do was make sure to scare him as much as possible – just to see if we still could. I know he'd be happy if he could see how well it worked."

Ginny sighed but couldn't contain her own smile. "Don't you think he can?" she asked, echoing her mother's words from earlier, and George stared at her for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah," he said. "I do."

"Thanks," she said, and she pulled him in for another hug.

"I love you, George," she whispered, and he whispered, "I love you, too, Gin. Congratulations. From both of us."

They were still hugging when Harry came back.

"Um, Ginny?" he asked, and she smiled as George let go.

"She's all yours," he said grandly before adding in an undertone, "take care of her – or you'll have to answer to me."

Harry tried to smile, but George looked back at him so seriously that he gulped and nodded – before whirling Ginny off into the night – and about as far away from any of her brothers as possible.

_**A/N2: I'm really sorry this took so long. There was so much I wanted to put into this chapter, and it took forever to find a way to make it all fit. I hope it worked. There comes a point where you just have to let it go, and I'm at that point. Please read and REVIEW! **_


	62. Epilogue

_Seven Months Later_

Harry and Ginny were sleeping soundly, nestled in each other's arms, when a loud pounding on the door caused them both to jerk awake and reach for their wands simultaneously.

"What on earth…" Ginny breathed as she and Harry each quickly struggled into sweatpants. He shrugged, but she noticed the way his lips were pressed tightly together and knew he was trying, for her sake, to stay calm. As they made their way to the door, he managed to put himself ahead of her, and she followed him down the stairs, grousing in her head about chivalry but knowing better than to say anything aloud.

At this point, the banging had resumed, and Harry held his wand aloft as they stood before the door. Before he could say a word, Ginny whispered "Don't you think – if this were a death eater or something – that they wouldn't bother knocking?"

Harry's wand came down a bit, and he rolled his eyes at her.

Speaking for the first time, he said exasperatedly, "I bet I know who it is," and he jerked the door open to reveal a wild-eyed Ron in sleeping clothes and extremely tousled red hair.

"I'm going to trip."

They were the first words out of Ron's mouth, and Ginny had to turn around so he wouldn't see her face splitting into a wide, unholy grin. Harry maintained better composure.

"No, you aren't," he said firmly, taking Ron by the elbow and tugging him inside.

"Am," Ron said distractedly. "I'm going to be walking down the aisle, and I'm going to trip. And Hermione's going to see it somehow, and she won't want to marry me, and…"

"Here," Harry said, interrupting this before it could get any worse. "We'll go into the kitchen; Kreacher will make us some tea, and then you'll go back home, all right? If you're not there in the morning, I think your mum might make sure that tripping will be the _least _of your concerns…"

Ron nodded dazedly and allowed himself to be led to the long wooden table. Ginny tugged Harry closer to her before he could sit and whispered, "You talk to him; I'll make the tea. It's – it's easier that way."

Mystified, Harry nodded. There was something else she was saying here, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. But then he turned, looked at Ron, and saw what Ginny already knew. The panic had receded… but this was not going to be an easy conversation.

He dropped heavily into the seat beside his friend but kept his voice light as he said, "I hardly slept the night before I married your sister. Remember? You had to help me shave."

He'd hoped to get a laugh out of Ron – Ginny snorted, her back still to them – but Ron merely shifted in his chair and kept his eyes trained firmly on the table.

"Ron?" Harry asked, but Ron didn't answer him. Instead, he looked up and said, "Gin –you talked to Mum on the morning of your wedding, right?"

Slowly, Ginny turned to look at her older brother. Her face was pale, but her eyes were understanding as she nodded.

"What – " his voice broke. "What did she tell you?"

He looked quickly back down at the table, but Ginny shuddered, and Harry swallowed hard.

"She said – she said that she didn't think Dad or Fred would miss my wedding. And as much as I wanted to believe her then, I didn't – I didn't until days later when Harry and I were in Scotland. When I went to get out of bed one morning, I slipped on a banana peel. I'd never eaten a banana. How else could you explain that but Fred? And then that night, the power went out … and the guy who owned the inn came around with batteries for flashlights… well, if that wasn't Dad, then I don't know what was. Mum was right, Ron. It's horrid not to see their faces, not to know for _sure _that they're happy for us… but … they wouldn't miss it for the world. You know they wouldn't."

Ron sighed, and Harry tried not to notice that his hands were shaking, but then Ron said, his voice strained, so quiet they could hardly hear him, "I want them here."

"Ron…" Ginny said, and she put down the kettle. He didn't look at her, didn't look up at all, and she moved to him, putting her hands lightly on his shoulders. Harry turned his face away as Ron's breathing became even more labored.

"It's not fair," he mumbled, and then he folded his arms on the table and hid his face in them as his shoulders shook under his sister's hands.

Ginny's breath caught in her throat, but she merely tightened her grip and held on until Ron's breathing eased. When he sat up at last, he found that Harry was still studiously looking away. Standing up, he noticed that Ginny's own eyes looked suspiciously bright.

Ron's ears felt hot, but he pulled his sister into his arms and whispered, "Thanks."

She nodded against his chest, and after a moment, they released each other.

"I'm – I'm sorry for waking both of you," Ron said, and now Harry turned back. He smiled, but the sadness in his own eyes was unmistakable.

"It's ok," he said quietly. "We – well, we understand, obviously. So does Hermione. I think – I think maybe you should talk to her about this, too."

Ron stiffened and shook his head.

"I can't – I can't ruin this day for her. She deserves a happy wedding."

Ginny looked at him disbelievingly. "You really think she's not thinking about all of this, too? Seriously?"

But Ron simply shook his head again. "I mean, sure she's thinking about it but not like this. I'll be fine. Thanks again."

And he was gone, leaving his sister and brother-in-law to stare at each other with resignation.

"He's going to be bad tomorrow," Ginny said as they made their way back to bad, and Harry nodded.

"Yes, he is."

* * *

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd slept in her parents' house, and when she awoke the following morning, it took her a few moments of disorientation before she even remembered where she was. When she made her way to the kitchen, she smiled to see her parents already dressed and ready for their very unconventional transport to the Burrow. It was clear that neither of them was very comfortable with the prospect, but they grinned at her when she walked in.

"Are you ready, sleepyhead?" Richard teased, and he turned to his wife. "Who would have thought that we'd be awake before this one on her own wedding day?"

Carol laughed and turned to Hermione. "Do you want anything to eat, dear?" she asked, but when Hermione shook her head quickly, she simply nodded. "All right, then. Are we ready to go?"

Before she could chicken out, Hermione forced a grin.

"We are," she said, the first words she'd spoken all day. "Let's go."

Their arrival at the Burrow did not go unnoticed. Molly came rushing out to welcome Carol and Richard, and when she caught sight of Hermione, she sighed with pleasure.

"It's finally going to be official," she said, a wide smile on her face. "I'm getting another daughter."

Carol squeezed Molly's hand. "We can't think of anyone with whom we'd rather share her more," she said, and Molly impulsively hugged her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Once inside, Carol set to work helping Molly in the kitchen, and Bill, who'd been sitting in the living room talking to Percy and Charlie, realized that Richard seemed at a loss for what to do.

"Mr. Granger," he called, and Richard looked up and smiled.

"Bill, call me Richard, please," he said as he walked over to them. "You're a father yourself, now. It makes sense for us to be on a first-name basis, don't you think?"

Bill smiled too. "I do. But Mum would have had my head if I hadn't addressed you properly at first. Come join us. Mum won't let us do anything, and Ron's not here yet, so we get to relax."

Richard sat down obediently. In the back of his mind, though, he wondered where his future son-in-law was, but as no one else seemed concerned, he let it go. And when Ron showed up 15 minutes later, he was glad to realize that his fears had been unfounded – almost. There was no denying that Ron did not quite look happy. But he plastered a smile on his face and joined his family, and no one said a word.

* * *

By the time the guests had all arrived, Hermione had almost had nervous breakdowns two separate times and was verging on her third when Ginny finally said in exasperation, "Would it make you feel better to talk to Ron? Because honestly, Hermione, this isn't like you at all, and I don't know what else I can do to help."

Hermione looked at her and nodded desperately, keeping her lips firmly clamped together. She felt so sick; she was afraid of what might happen if she opened her mouth. Ginny took one look at her and bolted for the door.

"Ron, it is," she muttered under her breath. Given the state her brother had been in last night, she didn't see how he could possibly be any sort of help, but it was worth a try. But when she banged on his door and then thrust it open violently, she stopped short. Bill was in there with him, and he had his arms around him, holding on tightly as Ron clearly struggled for control. Ginny felt the words die on her lips, and she swallowed thickly as she said, "Ron… Hermione wants to see you."

He froze, and Bill sighed.

"She'll understand," he said quietly. "You have to trust me on this. She will."

Ron stepped back from his oldest brother, refusing to look in Ginny's direction, and he said plaintively, "I want this to be a happy day for her."

Ginny'd had it. Her eyes narrowed as she snapped, "It won't be if you don't go to her right now! Stop acting like such a git, Ron. For some unknown reason, Hermione loves you, and she needs you right now, and if you don't go to her, then you don't _deserve _to get married to her today."

Her words were like a slap in the face. Without another word to either of them, Ron left the room. Ginny and Bill looked at one another, and she sighed.

"Doesn't he know she misses them, too?" she asked, and her voice sounded weak in her own ears. Bill took a step closer to her, and Ginny suddenly found herself enfolded in his arms.

"We all do," he murmured, and she nodded, closing her eyes tightly and hiding her face in her brother's shirtfront.

* * *

She looked beautiful. There was no denying that. She looked terrified, too. And when Ron walked into the room, she looked relieved, and he felt his breathing start to ease for the first time in over 24 hours.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you," he said, his voice colored with shame, but Hermione smiled now and shook her head, reaching for his hand.

"You got here, didn't you?" she asked, and he squeezed hers.

"I'm glad I did."

For a few minutes neither of them said another word, merely stood there watching each other. Hermione wondered if she should say what she'd been thinking all morning and then knew she had no choice. She took a deep breath.

"I – I want to go to the cemetery after this is all over. I want to go put the flowers on their – on their graves. I want them to be part of this day."

He was looking at her still, but he was blinking much too quickly, and suddenly he couldn't see her at all anymore.

"Thank you," he whispered, and he buried his face in her shoulder as she held him tightly. "Thank you."

* * *

Hours later, when all the guests had gone, Ron and Hermione Weasley disapparated from the Burrow and put half of her bouquet on Arthur's grave and the other half on Fred's. For a moment, they stood looking down at the names that meant so much to both of them.

"I'm glad you knew them," Ron said. His voice was calm.

"And loved them," Hermione corrected.

Ron turned to her and took her in his arms. "And loved them," he repeated.

"We're going to tell our kids all about their amazing grandfather and cool uncle," she continued even though her voice shook slightly.

Ron nodded against her, but he couldn't say another word. He didn't need to. She was right. They would.

_**A/N: And it's here at last. I can't say how sorry I am that it's taken me this long to get to the epilogue, but this story is finally complete. Thanks so much to everyone who's read and reviewed. It took me a long time to decide to write this since I didn't know how many people would want to read it, but I am so glad I did. It's been quite a journey. Oh, and before I forget – Lisa, I think you might need some brownies and hot cocoa right about now. This one's for you.**_


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